


The Friendly Enemy

by chemiclyde (liliwick_the_WORD)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Reluctant Cohorts to Tolerant Acquaintances to Something Else Entirely, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Foe Yay, M/M, Many Genocide Resets, Post-Undertale Genocide Route, Sans is incredibly hostile to Humans especially our Protagonist, Slow Burn, The Underground is hostile to Humans, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliwick_the_WORD/pseuds/chemiclyde
Summary: After suffering through a number of Genocide Runs and Resets, the Underground is left hostile and wary of all Humans.Until one day, another one falls down.Or,A Human finds himself in a shitty situation where he has to travel safely through an Underground full of hostile Monsters, avoid a merciless Skeleton determined to kill him, reach the Barrier within the King’s Castle, and finally get the fuck out of this place.





	1. "In this world, it's kill or BE killed."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Protagonist is first introduced and finds himself in a bit of a situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This writing project was created from the development of these ideas:
> 
> 1) How to take the nicest and friendliest world and character(s) and turn them to aggressive, dangerous threats to your life,
> 
> 2) How to take two characters who are supposed to be enemies and do not get along with each other and create a possible _something_ out of that,
> 
> 3) How to have sex with a Monster who has no sexual parts to speak of or has any knowledge of human sexual culture in the first place.

He remembered the scorching heat, the blast of hot air with a force so strong that it sent his body flying, his eardrums ringing, aching, throbbing. Then, a sharp pain as he slammed into the ground, all the breath knocked out of his chest before his body was rolling down an uneven surface and dropping off the edge of a precipice.

The next thing he knew, he was falling. Falling down into an abyss.

His last thoughts were simple: _fuck you Fritz for always forgetting things – why did I take that route – how come I didn’t see that – this is it I’m gonna die – I’m gonna die – no way I’m going to survive this–_

Soon enough, resignation took hold of him and he let himself be swallowed by darkness.

 

* * *

When he came to, his body ached. His skin felt raw and inflamed. His eardrums throbbed. His face was pressed onto flowers. In fact, he found himself lying on a bed full of them, bright gold in colour, surrounding him with a light and pleasant floral smell. For a few minutes, he lay there, trying to collect himself, trying to remember.

 _My name is Chance,_ he recalled, absent-mindedly smoothing the petals of a golden flower that grew near his sore fingers. _I have an older brother we call Fritz. I was on the way to the gym as usual. Fritz forgot his jacket. Had to go back to get it. Took a different route. Took too long. And then… and then…_

And then.

He couldn’t remember. Whenever he tried hard enough to recall something, his head throbbed in pain. It was as if his own mind warded him away from that important memory, warning him not to broach the subject. It wasn’t the time yet. Not the time. He decided not to worry about it for now. He needed to figure out where he was. He needed to get help. To get home.

He sat up and was relieved to find his glasses nearby, undamaged and in good condition. After putting them on and his world swirled back into clear view, he looked down at himself and fought back the urge to pass out. The left sleeve of his hoodie was singed, torn and full of holes, part of the fabric almost burnt away into nothingness. The skin of his arm was marred with burn marks, mottled bruises, seeping cuts, dirt and what seemed like shards of glass embedded into his flesh. He felt around the left side of his face and found something similar as well. He traced a few spots of raised, leathery skin and a smarting shallow cut on his cheek, felt something wet and smelling like iron smear across his face. The hearing in his left ear seemed to be blocked. He pressed a hand onto it. Then clicked his fingers. He could still hear some noise but it was heavily muffled, as if someone had shoved a wad of cotton into his ear canal.

His backpack lay a few metres away, tucked and almost hidden underneath the golden flower stalks. A quick rummaging into the bag confirmed what he still carried with him: his training gloves, mouth guard, spare towels, rolls of athletic tape, a small bottle of antiseptic ointment, his trusty notebook and pen and of course, Fritz’s jacket. It was possibly the one thing that got him into this situation in the first place. He pulled out the antiseptic ointment and one of the spare towels and focused on tending to his injuries. It took a while to swab the open wounds, to pick out each individual glass shard from his skin. Luckily, he was not a beginner to pain nor was he one to tending to his own injuries. Pain and discomfort were a constant companion when one spent most of their time training and sharpening their moves and techniques at the gym. He would get the occasional digit sprain or a pulled muscle. Sometimes it was a cut across his skin, scrapes along his elbows and shins. Bruises on his face.

But this was something else. Something he could not understand. All the while, as he pressed sections of his towel, soaked in ointment, onto his injuries, his mind raced again, went back to remember what had happened before the fall. But he couldn’t remember. He just couldn’t.

When he was done, he took the time to study his surroundings. He was in a large cavern of some sort. He could feel the vast space all around him despite the fact that much of the area was shrouded in gloom. The only light source seemed to shine directly onto the bed of golden flowers from which he sat on. Tilting his head up, he spotted a small gap somewhere high, high above him that let in bright rays of sunlight. But there was no way to get up there. He would have to explore the area if he was to find a way out. He would have to–

He blinked when his eyes caught a particular golden flower in front of him. For a second, he wondered why this one drew his interest compared to the others. When he shook his head and looked down at the flower again, he realised why. There was a face staring back at him.

“What.” Came the only eloquent response that he could come up with right now in this situation. He thought that the pounding in his head must have grown worse. He might be having a concussion. He was seeing things.

The flower _blinked_ up at him.

He leapt to his feet, almost stumbling in his effort to hold himself up.

The flower’s gaze followed him.

“My name is Chance,” he muttered aloud to himself, letting his eyes shut for a second to try to wrestle his disorientated thoughts back into order. “Something happened to me. I fell down and I found myself here. Now, I’m hallucinating. Or I’m dreaming. Because there’s a flower with a fucking face looking at me right now.”

When he opened his eyes, the flower was still there. At the sound of his voice, the thin lips on its face curled up in response. It smiled at him with a heavy, strained smile.

“Howdy,” the flower greeted in a high-pitched, child-like voice. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the flower. But you probably know that already, don’tcha?”

“Uh, no.” Chance made sure to clutch his bag in front of him like a shield when he replied. He wasn’t sure if he should be interacting with this creature. Wasn’t quite sure what was real anymore. “Say, uh… Fl-Flowey, right?” He might as well play along for now because what else was he going to do with his life at this point? “You wouldn’t happen to know the way out of here, do you?”

The flower’s smile wobbled. It did not seem satisfied with his response. “What?” It groused. “Fifteen years gone by and you wouldn’t even want to greet an old pal anymore? The Surface got boring for you again, huh? Decided to come and have some fun with us?”

Then, to his shock, the flower’s face twisted into something ugly and horrifying. “ _Too bad_.” Its voice took on a sinister turn. “I’m not in the mood for sweet-talking anymore. Do me a favour and just **d i e.** ”

Later, Chance would thank his training and his still-sharp reflexes for what happened next. No sooner had the flower threatened him that a bunch of green thorny vines burst out of the earth bed in an explosion of dirt and golden flower petals. The ground underneath him rocked for a moment. He watched as the vines twisted in the air for a second before turning to fly straight towards him. Chance had half a second to process this before he acted.

He immediately rolled out of the way, narrowly missing the vines striking the ground where he stood. The impact threw more dirt and ruined petals into the air. By the time he straightened up, heart pounding and his glasses a little bit askew, he saw a number of strange white pellets materialising in the air. They quivered on the spot before hurtling down towards him at rapid speed. Chance shoved his backpack up over his head and body as a shield and almost lost his balance when he felt the pellets battering down on him, feeling heavy and hot like bullets.

“ **D i e. D i e. D i e!** ” yelled the flower from somewhere in front of him. The little creature was glaring at him with a vicious hatred. The vines returned, bursting out of the ground again, enfolding him in a forest of thorny green. He was surrounded. He forced down his growing panic, quickly searched around for an opening and found it: a gap between two vines and beyond that was Flowey, watching and waiting to strike. He had to run now.

He picked himself up, backpack still held over his head for protection and sprinted towards the gap. From his peripheral vision, he could make out the vines rippling and moving around him but he ignored them for the moment and focused instead on his destination ahead. Another deluge of white pellets rained down on him. Chance felt a couple of them pelting onto his back. He cried out and almost tripped over the flowers by his feet. His back was burning in pain. He ignored it. The vines were closing in on him. He needed to reach that gap.

With one final burst of speed, he leapt, pushing through the vines, feeling the sharp thorns tearing through his sleeves, into his skin. Then he was through. He rolled over the flowers, flattening and ruining them, then scrambled up to his feet, ready to run away and hide.

He did not anticipate that he would land right in front of Flowey though. The moment he realised that the creature was close enough for him to touch it, Flowey reacted to their proximity. Chance saw its eyes grow wide, its whole body shrink away from him, shaking in fear. Before he knew it, the flower disappeared into the earth and did not come up again. A gaping silence suddenly descended into the cavern around him. Chance breathed freely again, feeling his heart racing in his chest, his whole being shaking from the spike of adrenaline. He knew that the vines were gone the moment Flowey left.

The flower bed was a mess of petals and squashed and flattened stalks. White pellets were scattered all over the area. Chance cautiously poked one with his shoe and watched in fascination as it suddenly disappeared into thin air. He felt the toe of his shoe tingle with something foreign and mysterious. There was also a strange scent lingering in the air, like ozone, like the smell of an approaching storm; a heavy residue of energy.

The skin on the back of his hands and wrists were bleeding. They were not deep cuts but they stung. Once more, Chance sat to tend to his injuries although this time, he did so with a heightened sense of vigilance towards his surroundings. Once he finished his limbs, he felt around his back and found bruises forming from where the pellets had struck him.

It was then that he realised the extent of the danger he had been in. Some strange creature had attacked him, glowered at him with eyes of hatred and fear, who had then tried to _hurt_ him.

_What the hell is going on?_

His heart began to race again in his chest, not from adrenaline but from anxiety and fear. He recognised the beginnings of a panic attack coming.

Chance closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply, to relax his own muscles, to focus on the fact that he was still alive, that his quick reflexes had saved himself from a dangerous situation. Slowly, he calmed down and decided to leave his thoughts about what was happening to him on hold. He would deal with those questions later. Questions like what was that flower creature, why had it attacked him, why had it left so suddenly when he got close to it, and so on. He thought briefly about how the air had shimmered and tingled with energy when the white pellets manifested in the air above him and then vanished when his foot prodded one on the ground.

_Magic._

God, he had to get out of here. “I have to get out of here,” he then repeated aloud to himself. His own voice sounded tired and pained to him. He wanted to go home. Wanted to wake up if this was all just some crazy dream.

Instead, he gathered himself and his backpack up, stepped out of the only spot of sunlight left and ventured deeper into the darkness.

 

* * *

Flowey was not the only creature he encountered as he continued to explore the caves. However, he certainly was the first human these creatures have met. The only problem was that when they saw him, they tended to react to him badly.

The first creature had been a strange frog-like beast that had two sets of eyes, one near its head and the other near its feet. It hopped close when Chance was studying the pillars, the set of stairs, the brickwork walls, the foot bridges stretching over little streams of water in a cave room he found himself in. The moment Chance turned to stare down at it, it seemed to realise what he was and suddenly let out a series of loud, panicked croaks. The next thing he knew, the creature leapt at him, aiming for his face.

Chance quickly brought up an arm to block it. Felt the creature’s webbed feet hit the skin of his wrist. He staggered from the impact and felt his bruised back hit the brick wall behind him. When he lowered his arm, the frog creature was gone. The only sign that it was ever there in the first place was the reddening welt it left on Chance’s arm.

“Thanks for this,” he muttered into the empty chamber and rubbed the welt, wincing at the forming bruise.

He eventually decided that he should do something about his wrists when two more creatures – a meek winged thing with antennae and thin arms and a strange pulsating jelly-like mould entity – attacked him the moment they saw him. Chance was left with bites and bruises from the creatures’ swarms of moths and tiny pellets. After swabbing more ointment onto the new injuries, he took both sleeves of his hoodie and tore them up to his elbows, fashioning anything still usable into strips of cloth and wrapping them expertly around his wrists. They were not the ideal kind of fabric to use but he had to improvise for now.

He took his time in his wrapping, his mind and body slowly relaxing and calming down at the familiar ritual. He seldom used hand or wrist wraps when he sparred at the gym but he often caught himself doing this enough times that he became accustomed to the procedure. After inspecting the end results, he got up and went on his way, this time with a resolution that he should perhaps keep himself out of anyone’s sight.

Navigating through this maze of chambers was simple enough but the thing that caught Chance off-guard were the puzzles. Many cave rooms housed a number of simple puzzles: step on some buttons on the floor, flick some switches, walk across the room in the right sequence, and so on. He wondered who in their right mind would come up with these things. Seeing as solving them was the only way for him to progress forward, Chance had no choice but to follow through.

He ended up coming across a little room tucked in the corner with a pedestal that held a bowl of what was labelled as ‘Monster Candy’. Knowing that he was unlikely going to find anything else edible, he swept the entire contents of the bowl into his bag but kept one for himself. The Candy tasted pleasant, with a distinct, non-liquorice flavour. It also made him feel better. He sucked on another one for good measure.

In another cave room, he came across a block of cheese set upon a table. At the base of a nearby wall was a mouse hole. He could hear gentle squeaking coming from inside.

He poked the cheese, wondering if he might take it. It was melted and stuck onto the table. He decided to move on.

On a pile of dried leaves in one of the further rooms, Chance cried out when his foot sank into something icy and tingling with energy.

He found himself staring at a ghost. A classic floating-white-sheet-with-two-dots-for-eyes ghost.

“ _oh…”_ said the ghost in a low, doleful voice that wavered as it stared at him. “ _am i in your way…?”_

Chance swallowed loudly, not daring to move. He made sure to brace himself in case of an attack, arms hanging loosely by his sides, ready to rise and block. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably.

 _“uh, ha-ha… i guess me being here is making this quite awkward…”_ drawled the ghost. “ _i’m sorry… i’m actually_ real _funny... here… watch…”_

Then, the ghost began to cry. Chance watched in bafflement as the shining wetness in the creature’s eyes transformed into individual drops of tears which began to float upwards like rain. On the ghost’s head, a top hat began to form from its own flood of tears. Chance felt his jaw drop a little at the sight.

“ _i call it ‘dapper blook’ do you like it…?”_ it said.

When Chance did not answer, mostly because he had no idea that the ghost had actually asked him a question, the creature slumped and drew away from him, the top hat vanishing from its head.

 _“oh… maybe i’m not that funny after all…”_ it mused forlornly. _“truth is… i’m not really feelin’ up to it right now… sorry…”_

“Um,” Chance tried to say. Because this was the first time he came across someone who didn’t want to attack him on sight.

 _“i’m just gonna go…”_ the ghost announced sadly. “ _i usually come here to the Ruins because there’s nobody around… but i understand if you want your space… sorry if i keep making things more awkward than it is…”_ Chance watched as it floated upwards and disappeared into the ceiling.

“Wait.” Chance finally found his voice. “Could you tell me where the exit is?”

Nothing answered him back except the sound of crinkling leaves underneath his feet.

 

* * *

By the time Chance had gone through room-after-room of puzzles and tried and sometimes failed to keep himself hidden from other wandering creatures, he began to feel the strain taking its toll on his body. He couldn’t tell how many hours had passed since he regained consciousness and left the sunlit flower bed behind.

He rubbed gingerly at another new injury he had acquired on his lower back. A short, horned creature with a single eye had yelled at him intimidatingly when Chance tried to sneak past it undetected in one of the puzzle rooms. It had been counting something shiny in its hands when Chance came across it. Once it had noticed him sneaking, it drew nearer, demanding to know who he was, and Chance had thought for a moment about making a run for it. That idea was scrapped though when the horned cyclops yelled again, only this time it did not sound so intimidating.

“Y-Y-You’re a Human!” it exclaimed, dropping the shiny coins it had been counting to the floor and then cowering and holding its arms out to shield its single eye. “Please don’t pick on me! Please don’t kill me!”

“Only if you do the same to me,” Chance told it. He was also leaning his body away, wary of the small cowering cyclops in front of him. He was somewhat relieved to find another creature who could speak and understand him. At least, in this way, there was a better likelihood to talk them down from attacking him for no reason.

“Humans kill all Monsters,” remarked the cyclops from behind its spindly arms. “You think I’m gunna believe you? All of you lot are evil little snipes. Oh, shoot! Please don’t pick on me. Please don’t kill me.”

Chance was beginning to understand why he was getting attacked on sight in this place. These creatures, these ‘Monsters’ _,_ were scared of him. They all thought he was a serious threat, that he was something dangerous and that was why most of them lashed out at him before he could do anything else. He briefly wondered about the ghost he found in the pile of leaves and wondered why it had not reacted the same way as the others.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Chance told the cyclops Monster who continued to babble variations of “please don’t pick on me / please don’t kill me”. “I don’t want to hurt or kill anybody in this place. I just want to get out of here. Could you just tell me the way out? Then I won’t bother you.”

The Monster did not hear him. It continued its endless pleading, still cowering on the spot. Chance felt sorry for it.

“Okay, okay, look.” Chance tried raising his voice to get the Monster’s attention. “Look, I’m gonna back away now. Okay? You see me right here? You see me, don’t you?”

“Don’t insult me, you eyesore,” the Monster hissed, its single eye glaring up at him in disdain. “Of course I can _see_ you–” Then it realised who it had been back-talking to and immediately returned to whimpering pathetically.

“Look, I’m _really_ gonna back away.” Chance took a cautious step back, not wanting to make any sudden moves to startle the cyclops. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see you. Which means you can run and be on your merry way and I’m not gonna chase you, okay? Honest.” He made sure to keep the Monster’s attention on him, hoping to gain its trust, hoping that it will see that he was telling the truth. The Monster lowered its arms a little and was watching him warily as he retreated further and further away.

Finally, Chance took a deep breath and began to turn his back on it. “I’m going to turn around now, okay? So don’t–” he began.

And was immediately hit on his lower back by some force of energy. He yelled out in surprise, toppling to the ground and feeling the air knocked out of his lungs. He gasped for breath. Reached back to paw at the thing that struck him.

He found a line of small spheres lying on the floor nearby, obviously the source of energy that had hit him. They wriggled on the spot like worms before they shimmered and disappeared, leaving behind a very faint smell of ozone. Chance looked up. The cyclops was gone.

“You rude little…” Chance grinded out and paused to think of a suitable insult. “… _snipe._ ”

Before he left that room though, he went over to the coins that the Monster had dropped, picked them up and pocketed them. He decided that they might come in handy the next time another Monster tried to attack him. Perhaps he could bribe it into leaving him alone with these.

Later on, he stumbled across a corner with walls covered in spider webs. There was a sign nearby advertising for pastries and a set of instructions on how to deposit the correct amount of money in exchange for the food items. Chance thought about his dwindling Monster Candy supply and the coins in his pocket. He went over to the spider webs and then heard the frantic, excited whispering coming from the walls around him:

_“Is that a Human?”_

_“A Human?”_

_“A real Human.”_

_“What’s a Human doing here in the Ruins?”_

_“That’s a bad omen.”_

_“Very bad.”_

_“The Human will kill us.”_

_“It will kill all us spiders.”_

_“Kill everyone in the Underground.”_

“Um.” Chance did not know who he should be addressing to. He really wanted to explain himself. He was beginning to feel sick as he listened to the things that these voices were saying about him. “Just to make myself clear, I’m not going to–”

_“We should warn everyone.”_

_“A Human in the Ruins.”_

_“This is a bad sign.”_

_“Yes, a bad omen.”_

_“It’s gotten this far already.”_

_“How many has it killed, we wonder?”_

“I haven’t killed anyone!” Chance snapped heatedly, feeling the nauseous feeling in his stomach worsen. But the voices continued on as if they did not hear him.

_“Not too far to go now.”_

_“Not too long left.”_

_“It will find its way out eventually.”_

_“Then, comes the end.”_

_“It will kill everyone.”_

_“Kill all spiders.”_

_“Kill all Monsters.”_

_“Kill the Underground.”_

_“Kill everything.”_

_“Kill. Murder. Slaughter._ Genocide _._ ”

“Please stop.” Chance’s voice was quiet and strangled in his throat. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and something in him wanted to break. He backed away from the spider webs, the bake sale sign, the vicious whispering voices, turned on his heel, and ran.

It took him a few puzzle rooms to go through before the shaking in his hands could finally cease. He found that focusing intensely on solving puzzle after puzzle helped distract himself from the spiders’ sinister whispers. Soon after, he was able to compose himself again and focus on what he knew and was sure of; he was not welcomed here, he understood that. Everyone seemed to think he was some sort of monster… or rather, some Monster-killing psychopath. He had no intention of doing any harm to anyone nor did he want to be here in the first place. He just wanted to get the hell out of here.

Chance rubbed the sore spot on his lower back again, felt the stretch in his aching muscles and the stinging on his skin. He reached into his bag for the last Monster Candy. Food helped a lot. He always felt a little better and a lot more energised after consuming them. As he sucked on the Candy, he suddenly realised that the food item might actually have healing properties. What little sustenance it provided certainly helped push him on.

After a few more rooms, he found himself standing at a crossroads. It took him a second to decide on which direction to go through. He chose straight ahead.

The door opened up to a stone balcony overlooking a massive deep cavern below and Chance blinked at the sight before him. A small city was sprawled down there, the buildings abandoned and in ruin. They lay there in silence, a sad sight shrouded in deep gloom, crumbling and dilapidated and unloved. He studied them for a moment, wondered if Monsters were living there, and turned back to the crossroads, seeing as there was no safe way to climb down from here.

The alternative direction led to a door that opened up to a small but widely spacious room. A large leafless tree sprouted from the ground with piles of its dried leaves covering its gnarly roots, and a house at the end the room, bricked and built into the wall. It had a simple and basic design, a pair of blacked out windows and a faded plaque hanging above the open front door leading inside.

A house.

Chance was exhausted after all the walking, all the puzzle-solving and for keeping his guard up for hours. He was still nursing his injuries, was hungry and thirsty, was still in denial about what was happening to him. He thought about resting in that house for a while, to take a break from this strange turn of events. God, he just needed a momentto _breathe._

He quickly studied the area and found no one about. Slipping into the room, he kept himself to the walls until he reached the same level as the leafless tree. He stopped and looked around again, listening carefully for any sound but nothing stirred around him. Satisfied, he crept closer to the open door, stopped once more and tried to peer into the gloom from this distance. He was unable to see anything inside. In the end, he lingered in front of the doorway, hesitating. What if there was someone inside the house? Surely someone lived here? There were no lights inside though. Maybe nobody was home?

He must have stood there and debated with himself for a long time because he didn’t notice the shadow that had fallen over him until it was too late.

“Who are you?” demanded a voice – feminine, mellow, but with an air of suspicion.

Chance stiffened, stifling a curse in his mouth. If this was another Monster, it was so much larger than the previous ones he’d encountered because its shadow practically swallowed his whole form.

“Who are you?” the voice asked again, sounding closer. “Please turn around and show yourself.”

The open doorway suddenly looked inviting to him. Chance wasted no more time and made a dash towards it.

He managed to hear the Monster let out a surprised sound before he smashed face-first into an invisible barrier. The collision made him reel back in surprise, clutching his face. Something in front of him was blocking him out, preventing him from reaching the opening into the house.

“Ow…” he moaned, rubbing his poor nose. He then pulled off his glasses, quickly inspecting them, and was relieved to find them still whole and undamaged.

“Well if you hadn’t run off like that, this wouldn’t have happened,” the Monster huffed in an oddly maternal manner. Chance was very sure this was a female. “Now why don’t you turn around so I can fix you up–”

He couldn’t help it. He turned around, dropping the hand from his face and slipping his glasses back on to look up at the owner of the voice.

He wished he hadn’t.

For the Monster before him was huge, towering above him in the form of a great white goat-like creature with small curved horns, large furry paws and was swathed in a long purple robe with an embroidery of a strange symbol on the chest. The moment she saw what he was, her face shifted from an expression of mild concern to one of full-on horror. She stumbled a few steps backwards to keep a fair distance between them.

A second later, her face shuttered up like the black windows of the house behind them. “You’re a Human,” she observed coldly as she stared down at him. Her eyes roved over his form, taking in the cut and burn marks on his face, the make-shift cloth wraps around his wrists that appeared so much like bandages, and the remains of his torn and singed hoodie. “You’ve been through some hardships,” she then added, her voice remaining flat and emotionless.

Chance did not speak. His eyes darted away from her for a second, quickly searching for a possible exit. The only one he knew left was the doorway from which he came from.

“Human,” the Monster addressed him with a cold intensity that could still probably burn holes into the ground. “Why have you come here?”

The commanding tone in her voice compelled Chance to answer. “I’m sorry.” His voice came out embarrassingly quiet, like a child who was caught doing something naughty. “I didn’t mean to trespass or anything. I’ll just be on my way.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” she declared. “Especially not the gate out of these Ruins.”

“Which is where I am _not_ going, of course,” Chance countered, although he made a mental note that that was _exactly_ where he should go to get the hell out of this place. “So, ah, I’ll just go back the way I came then…”

Which was a mistake to say. In revealing his direction to leave, the Monster took a step closer towards him, her body a solid wall blocking his way.

“Like I said.” Her voice was low and threatening. “You’re not going anywhere. I cannot allow you to leave the Ruins and enter the Underground. I will not allow you to hurt anyone.”

“But I don’t _want_ to hurt anyone,” Chance insisted, trying inconspicuously to edge around her so that he could see the door. “You have to believe me. I just want to leave this place…”

His words faltered and died completely when a ring of fireballs suddenly materialised above the Monster. She was holding up her paws, which glowed lightly, and her expression remained aloof as she continued to stare down at him. There was that sharp scent of ozone again and a heavy air which hummed and rippled as if the space around them was being filled with energy.

“Oh shit,” said Chance, and threw himself to the side just as the Monster hurled the ring of fireballs at his face.

 

* * *

When Chance began to see dark spots appear in the corners of his vision, he knew he was in trouble.

“Hey, let’s talk about this!” he continued to plead as he jumped out from behind the leafless tree, its naked branches curiously _not_ on fire, before dodging another wave of fireballs hurtled at his direction. He noticed that ever since he tried talking to the Monster, tried to appeal to her better nature, her attacks had grown in intensity, the flames conjured from thin air thrown almost continuously at him as if she was trying hard to make him stop speaking. The Monster herself was looking increasingly frustrated the more he ducked and dodged her attacks. She became even more so when he started pleading with her.

“Please!” he yelled, and then cursed when a fireball brushed over the top of his head. “Come _on_ , stop throwing fire at me!”

All around him, the room shimmered and hummed with magical energy as fireball after fireball sailed across the air. Chance had used the extensive space, darting to different corners of the chamber in an attempt to escape the flurry of flames. Once, he had managed to get far enough to make a break towards the door leading outside the room but it turned out that it, too, had been blocked by another invisible barrier. Chance had crashed into it, bounced back to the ground from the impact and, as he spent those precious few seconds staring up at the doorway in disbelief, had fought back a sudden urge to cry. Because it was really not fair to be given a glimpse of freedom and then have it cruelly taken away from him like that. He had managed to regain enough of his composure to scramble back up to his feet before another ring of fireballs were sent his way.

The longer he ran in circles around the room, the more he was aware that his breathing was becoming more laboured, how his heart pounded hard against his ribcage, how the muscles in his legs grew heavier and heavier with fatigue. He was struggling to keep himself up and now, his vision had started to become spotty, swimming into a blur before turning clear again. His glasses kept slipping down his sweaty nose.

He knew that sooner or later, he was going to collapse because he was sure he could not keep this up any longer. If pleading did not seem to work, then he will have to think of another strategy, another way to get this Monster to stop attacking him. Crouching behind the tree again, Chance quickly thought back to his previous encounters with other Monsters. Most of them seemed to attack him just so they could use the time it took for Chance to recover to escape the area. In this case, this female Monster was not fleeing from him. She wanted strike him down until he fell unconscious or was killed, just as Flowey had done–

An idea formed in his mind. Of _course_! These Monsters didn’t just seem to hate his existence because he was a Human, they feared him even more. Flowey had shrank back in terror and retreated the moment Chance was in close proximity to it. Perhaps it would be the same with this female Monster. Chance should not have been running away from her. He should be running _towards_ her instead.

That was easier said than done.

If fleeing from magical fireballs was difficult enough, it was even more so when Chance was now actively trying to make his way to their conjurer. The female Monster seemed to have noticed him approaching her because she now waved her glowing paws with a renewed vigour, weaving fireball after fireball in the air and throwing them towards him in a spinning hurricane of flames.

It took far too long to reach her. By the fourth attempt, Chance was close to giving up. He faltered in his steps at one point when the thought suddenly crossed his mind and his head bowed down, his face crumpling up in hopelessness. When more than five seconds passed without the sound of fire whooshing towards him, he peeked from over the rim of his glasses and saw the Monster watching him, her fireballs idly floating above her. Her expression was pinched in pity.

Her moment of hesitation was enough. Chance took the risk. He tore across the room towards her before she could react, managing to catch her expression changing to alarm. When they were only a few metres away, he shot out his arm and grabbed onto one of her outstretched paws. He heard her startled gasp at his touch. Her paw was warm in his.

“Please stop–” he gasped, his gaze darting up to look at her eyes.

Something hit him on the back. His whole being stiffened and then convulsed as a hot surge of blazing energy spread across his body, rendering him unable to breathe for a moment. Pain shot through his limbs. His vision reddened. His head felt like it was on fire.

He saw his hand slipping out of the Monster’s paw as he sank to the ground. She was staring at him in shock, her paws covering her mouth. And then everything went dark, as if someone had snuffed out all the fire and light in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Undertale fic. 
> 
> I'm not familiar with writing Reader Inserts or Second Person POVs and this is why I've settled with writing with an established OC. Plus, the character of Chance had long been formed in my head for a while. I hope his introduction into this world is adequate at least. 
> 
> Please do leave some feedback and tell me what you think. With that, thank you so much for reading.


	2. "on days like these,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Protagonist has a little bit of a breakdown and eventually meets his most dangerous enemy yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the readers who had left Kudos in the previous chapter.

Chance woke with a gasp. For a moment, he did not know where he was. He was lying on his stomach in a bed that was not his own, in a room that was not his or Fritz’s. The air felt different too. There was a faint smell of burnt baking. No one in his household baked. His stomach growled. His throat was parched.

If he wasn’t home, then where was he?

When he tried to get out of bed and stand up, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor. A few seconds later, he felt the lingering pain return to his body, felt the skin of his arms stinging, his muscles sore and aching, his back searing. He lifted one of his hands and saw, despite the darkness of the room, the mess of cuts and torn skin all over his hand, the strips of cloth wrapped around his wrist and the torn sleeve of his singed hoodie.

_Oh no._

He was not home. He was not _anywhere._

His head dropped into his hand and he groaned. “Oh fuck _. Fuuuuck._ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why the fuck am I still _here_?”

He thought that this was all a dream. He thought that someone had played a cruel prank on him and he’d been heavily drugged and this was just some crazy hallucination he was experiencing. He thought that when he lost consciousness after that attack, he could finally get out of this place and return to the real world.

No, he was still stuck here. He was still–

Before he knew it, his palm was wet and he couldn’t stop the tears spilling from his eyes. An overwhelming wave of sadness and hopelessness sank into him then. He felt an aching longing in his chest for Fritz, for home, for something or someone familiar. But nothing was familiar here. Nobody would come for him. He was lost. He was alone.

In realising all that, he let himself cry harder, sob louder, allowed himself to let everything he had been holding back to pour out of him. For it was better to break down here, in this dark room where it seemed no one was going to disturb him. He needed to deal with this _now_ , needed to process everything that had happened to him so far so that he would not risk losing his head at the wrong time once he had to step back out there.

(Did he even _want_ to go back out there?)

(Did he even have a choice?)

“Fuck this,” he sobbed, his voice strangled in his throat. “Fuck this place.”

Sometime later, when his tears were drying on his face and his hiccups had died down and he was left empty and staring blankly at the floor, he spoke again into the gloom, as Fritz told him he should do when things were going to shit in his life; when he, himself, needed to get back up on his feet and fight again:

“My name is Chance.” His voice came out wobbly at first so he took a deep breath to steady his next words: “I don’t remember what happened to me. I don’t know how I got here. But I’m here now, in the… in the Ruins. There are creatures here. They call themselves ‘Monsters’. They’re scared of Humans, scared of me. They think I’m going to hurt them, so they attack me on sight even though I really don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want to get out of here.”

He paused, his own words calming him down and he could feel a solid resolve forming deep within his bones, a strong sense of determination that would ground him and push him to continue on no matter what. After all, this wasn’t the first time he had shattered into pieces and put himself back together again. He had come a long way from that time many years ago when Fritz found him unconscious on the bathroom floor with an empty bottle of painkillers clutched in his hand.

“That… that other Monster,” Chance pondered aloud. “She said the way out of the Ruins goes to the Underground. She didn’t mention where the exit out of this whole place was, though. Maybe it’s nearby. Maybe it’s back where I came from. But, fucking hell, it’s got to be out there somewhere. It has to be. I have to find it. I have to get _out_.”

He stood up and, when his legs didn’t threaten to collapse underneath him, went to find the light switch. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and he certainly wasn’t going to search for them in the dark like this.

He could not find a light switch on the wall but did find a lamp wedged into a corner. When he switched it on, the whole room lit up and he was surprised to find that he was in a child’s bedroom. The bed he’d been sleeping in was actually small and child-sized. There were a couple of boxes of old toys and children’s shoes of various sizes, a wardrobe, a rough drawing of a flower taped to the wall, and an empty photo frame sitting on an extremely dusty cabinet. His glasses lay next to the frame. He picked them up.

He was relieved to find his bag tucked underneath the bed. When he pulled it out and took out his stained towel and ointment, planning to tend to his injuries again, he realised that his skin was not smarting or hurting as much anymore. He looked down at his hands and gasped in shock when he found that the cuts and bruises had faded, his torn skin and burn marks were halfway healed. He clicked his fingers over his left ear, the one that always felt like it was blocked, and his hearing was clear. Curious, he then began to unravel his wrist wraps; the skin underneath was now littered with scabs and scars rather than open cuts. When he closely inspected the large bruise that he got from the frog Monster, he watched in fascination as it slowly but subtly changed colour, from a bluish purple to a deep green.

He sniffed the air. There was still that burnt baking smell. But underneath that, so very faint that you couldn’t quite detect it, was the fresh, sharp scent of ozone, that smell of an approaching storm, a lingering residue of shimmering, rippling energy. Someone or something was healing him with magic.

When he stuffed the towel and ointment back into his bag, his hand brushed against Fritz’s jacket. He pulled it out. He remembered gifting this for his brother’s birthday last year. Fritz had loved it because the jacket was padded, had a detachable hood and was reversible; he could wear it in a sandy colour one day and turn it inside out and wear it in a dark brown colour the day after. Fritz had forgotten it when he rushed to work that day and had called Chance to pick it up and bring it to him. Chance had been on the way to the gym when he got the phone call. He had grumbled all the way back home and once he stuffed the jacket into his bag, had headed out, had taken a shortcut and–

Well, that important chunk of memory was still blocked from his mind. He had no means to access it and his head throbbed every time he tried.

He looked down at his own ruined hoodie, at the missing sleeves, and decided that Fritz’s jacket was much more useful on him than in his bag. He took off the hoodie, inspected the rash guard T-shirt he wore underneath, was satisfied that it was mostly undamaged, and shrugged on Fritz’s jacket, the sandy-coloured side, and zipped it up.

The jacket felt and smelt like home.

He thought of Fritz and reassured himself that he would find a way to get back to him soon.

 

* * *

There was a plate containing the largest slice of pie Chance had ever seen outside the child’s bedroom door.

It explained the burnt baking smell. Someone had baked pie in an oven somewhere. A slice of it was sitting there, still warm judging from the steam wafting up from it. Chance was afraid to touch it in case it was not meant for him. He looked up and down the quiet, empty hallway. There was no one in sight. He edged around the plate, his eyes locked on the pie, his stomach growling aggressively, and spotted a piece of notepaper tucked underneath the plate. He picked it up.

 _Dear Human,_ it read.

_You have my mercy. I am sparing your life for now._

_I have made enquiries with my neighbours. Some have seen you and insisted on recalling their escapades with you with a little too much exaggeration, so much so that they can’t all have been true (surely Loox Eyewalker persisting that you shot laser beams from your eyes at him because you didn’t like his was too farfetched). After much investigation, I found that no one in the Ruins was hurt or worse. Perhaps you have been telling the truth after all and for that, I apologise for attacking you without giving you a chance to explain yourself._

_If your intention is to truly leave the Underground altogether, then go down to the basement of this house and you will find the gate leading out of these Ruins. You will have to venture deeper into the Underground as the only way out lies within the King’s Castle. Head eastwards until you find it. There is a Barrier within the Castle which will take you ‘home’. It will be a long and difficult journey so prepare yourself._

_Be warned though. The Monsters of the Underground will kill you if they see you. It is best that you keep out of sight if you want to make it back to the Surface alive._

_If you had been lying to me all along, if you hurt anyone after you leave this house, I will come find you and burn you down to ashes._

_Here is some butterscotch and cinnamon pie. Eat it to gain back your health and your strength._

_Signed, Toriel._

Chance barely finished reading the letter before he tossed it aside, pulled the plate onto his lap and fell onto it like a man gasping for air. The pie was divine. He swallowed most of it down and nearly choked on a chunk that got stuck halfway down his throat. He only allowed himself to breathe once he finished licking the plate clean.

He picked up the notepaper again. _The King’s Castle,_ pointed out Toriel’s note. _The Barrier._ He had to travel through this strange place called the Underground full of Monsters in order to reach it. If walking through the Ruins and trying to keep out of sight of the Monsters who lived here was difficult enough, how the hell could he get through even more of them _outside_ this area? He needed to tread carefully. He had to know where to go. There was no use wandering around an area if its inhabitants tended to attack you on sight. He needed a map or something. Where the hell could he get one?

Does this house have one? Does Toriel know?

He got up, intending to explore.

He found the living room and browsed through the titles of a bookcase stacked next to a small, roaring fireplace and an enormous reading chair. There was nothing useful for him to read right now. He found the kitchen very easily enough from the lingering smell of the baking oven. Set atop the clean kitchen counter was a plate containing the rest of the pie. The remaining portion was massive, bigger than his own head, and Chance wanted to take the whole thing with him if he was to make a long journey across hostile terrain. He wondered if he could find Toriel and ask her nicely if he could.

He left the pie alone for now and continued exploring.

Toriel was nowhere in the house nor was she outside it. Chance had stepped into what he was sure was her room. She had left a notebook open scribbled with a collection of puns and jokes on the desk but nothing else to indicate where she might have gone. When Chance left the room and walked to the end of the hallway, decorated homely with vases of plants, he froze when he saw a movement in the corner of his eye. He slowly turned to face it.

It was a hallway mirror. He stared at himself and his reflection stared back at him in shock. He looked frazzled and exhausted and wretched; like someone who was trying desperately to keep himself together. Behind his glasses, dark circles shadowed the skin underneath his red-rimmed eyes. The fading bruises, the burn marks and the healing cut on his cheek stood out sharply on his face.

God, he was a pathetic sight. When he saw his own thoughts so clearly on his face, felt the wave of desolation rising in his throat and threatening to overwhelm him, his eyes began to water in response. He hurriedly blinked the wetness away.

“Keep it together, Chance,” he encouraged himself quietly. “And for fuck’s sake, you’re gonna be fine.”

He breathed deeply for a minute, forcefully pushing down his despair, and looked away.

The hallway behind him remained empty. Toriel wasn’t here. Chance wasn’t sure if she would return. He did know that if he was about to leave the Ruins and enter the Underground, he needed to be prepared. He needed to gather some things and get himself ready, physically and mentally. He needed to snatch as much rest as he could before setting off into the unknown.

He walked back up the hallway, returned to the child’s room and crashed into the too-small bed.

 

* * *

Chance couldn’t tell how many hours he stayed at Toriel’s house. There were no clocks or timepieces anywhere that could tell him the time since he last woke up. All his injuries eventually healed, thanks to the combination of magical energy and the slices of pie which he’d consumed.

“Where the hell are all the _knives_?” he’d said aloud at one point when he checked and rechecked every drawer in the kitchen for something to use to cut the remaining portion of the pie up. In the end, he had to settle with breaking pieces of it with his hands into edible chunks. He made sure not to eat too much of the pie though but thankfully, its sheer size was so big that he was confident there would still be enough for the road.

Toriel never returned to the house.

Chance spent some of that time while he waited for his wounds to heal lounging about the house. He sat by the still-roaring fireplace, pulled down a couple of books from the bookcase nearby and tried to read. One book in the collection recited the interesting historical account of Monsters – how long, long ago, Humans and Monsters fought in a war and then the Monsters became trapped Underground and went and built their home here. The city he saw sprawled out from the overlook was supposed to be the very first Monster city. It had long been abandoned and left to crumble after most of its original inhabitants moved deeper into the Underground.

He wondered why Toriel stayed here in a house all by herself though.

He absent-mindedly flipped through a thin volume that was filled with a collection of jokes. There was a section dedicated to skeleton-related puns which had been carefully bookmarked. Chance stopped at one of the pages.

“‘What kind of instrument do skeletons play?’” he read out before pausing to answer. “‘A trom-BONE.'”

He scowled and tossed the book aside. “Ugh, _no_. That was fucking awful.”

By the time the last bruise had faded from a pale yellow back to his original skin colour, Chance was ready to go. He looked and felt good as new.

He had securely wrapped what was left of the pie in a clean piece of cloth he found in one of the kitchen drawers and filled in a few containers of water from the sink. He hoped Toriel wouldn’t mind him borrowing some of her things at his time of need. He decided to wrap his wrists again with the strips of cloth, now clean after he spent some time washing them, because he figured that if he ran into any trouble, his arms would be a little more protected should he have to use them to block. He briefly considered putting on his training gloves for much better protection but then thought the sight of the gloves might make the Monsters think he intended to attack them. He left them in his bag for now.

Before he departed, he tidied everything up, made sure to leave everything where it should be and left a sincere thank you letter to Toriel on her reading chair by the (he was definitely now sure was magical) roaring fireplace. He finally went downstairs and crept through the long, winding hallways of the silent, echoing basement. The gate leading out of the Ruins was at the end, appearing as a set of tall majestic stone doors marked with the same symbol like the one on Toriel’s robe. He pushed one of the doors open with his shoulder, slipped through the opening and held it for a moment to take one last look at the Ruins behind him.

Something caught his eye. He blinked when he saw someone watching him from the shadows. The scant light of the basement glanced off the curved points of a pair of horns as a large robed figure stepped back into the gloom. He could still feel the presence nearby, that tingling, humming magical energy in the air and the faint scent of butterscotch-cinnamon pie. He hesitated for a moment, his hand still holding the heavy door open, and wondered if Toriel had been in the house, cleverly hidden all this time, watching him weep by the bed, read her books by the fire and struggle to stuff her pie into his bag.

In the end, he called out, “Thank you, Toriel,” into the echoing hallway before letting go of the door. It swung shut with a heavy, reverberating thud and he was alone again.

* * *

Chance had always preferred contact sports rather than outdoor activities like hiking. It wasn’t as if he minded being around nature so much. It was just that he much preferred activities where his mind would focus solely on the moment, on _right now,_ because then it would be working fast and hard on planning the next step, on predicting an opponent’s next movements before he could act. In other words, when he was locked in that moment when he had to make those split-second decisions, there was no chance for his mind to wander.

At present, while trudging through a dark snowy forest all by himself, his mind could not _help_ but wander. And they wandered to places he really wished he didn’t want to know.

There was always something sinister and eerie about being surrounded by the tallest coniferous trees you’d ever seen. These ones loomed over him and made him feel small and insignificant; gave him the impression that they were closing in on him as he dragged his shoes along the empty pathway and left deep groves in the snow.

He had left the Ruins through another set of heavy stone doors some time ago, not knowing what to expect when he emerged from that dark cavern. When he first felt his feet sink into the mass of soft ice and saw the dark path before him curtained by trees as tall as skyscrapers and trunks as black as night, he went, “ _Nope_ ” and turned to go back. The doors back to the Ruins refused to open no matter how hard he pushed and kicked and pounded on it.

After wearing himself out from cursing extensively at the firmly shut doors, he’d taken a deep breath to gather his courage, trudged a couple of metres into the snowy forest and stopped when something caught his eye from the bush on his side. After examining it for a moment, he had been horrified to discover that the shiny thing that got his attention was a camera lens. Suffice to say, he’d grabbed a handful of snow from the ground, dumped a good portion of it onto the lens and quickly scurried away.

It was quiet as he continued to creep down the path, the only sounds being the crunching snow under his feet and his breaths coming out as puffs of white mist from his mouth. He was grateful that Fritz’s jacket was padded and helped insulate some warmth into his torso and arms. The hood also helped cover his ears and the back of his head. He wasn’t quite sure about his hands though; his fingertips were starting to freeze where they hit the air. He stuffed them into his jacket pockets, trying to warm them up, and felt something inside. He pulled the object out.

It was an orange bandanna. Chance had seen his brother wear this sometimes when the latter went out cycling on some weekends. Fritz must have left it in his jacket and forgotten about it. Chance brought the bandanna up and began to tie the fabric around his neck like a scarf. At least this could help protect his neck from the cold somewhat. He was beginning to notice that the longer he stayed out here, the worse the chill was getting to him.

Eventually, he stumbled across a large branch lying in the middle of the pathway. He looked up at the giant trees around him and was not able to figure out which one might be missing a branch. He looked back down at it again.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly prickled, making his body involuntarily shiver at the sensation. He quickly whipped his head around to find nothing and no one behind him. The snowy pathway still looked the same, imprinted with his own footprints, the trees still surrounded him, tall and silent like wooden statues, yet he could not shake off the feeling that there were eyes on the back of his head.

The more he stood there, the heavier he felt his agitation weigh down on his chest. He cautiously stepped around the branch and continued on his way, deliberately ignoring everything behind him.

_CRACK!_

Chance jumped at the sound and spun around sharply, his arm shooting up by reflex to protect his head. He stared ahead, his body petrified, his senses on high alert. There was only silence. There was no one. Just the sound of the cold breeze and the wild pounding of his heart in his chest.

His eyes eventually found the branch on the ground. It now lay in pieces. He gawked at it for second before averting his eyes to the surroundings again. He tilted his face up and sniffed the air. The icy coldness bit into his nostrils when he inhaled but he thought he could sense the residue of magical energy, most of it emanating from the broken branch. Was someone there behind the trees? Or perhaps the branch itself was magic?

Either way, he didn’t want to linger any longer. He warily backed away from the branch, his gaze darting from it to the trees and back, until he felt that he reached a safe enough distance to turn around and continue on his way. His footsteps were quicker now as they plodded through the snow.

Up ahead, he came across a small footbridge. There was a strange wooden gateway built over it. The space between the bars of the gateway seemed wide enough to pass through but Chance found the overall structure to be too low for him to bend down. In the end, he leapt over the whole thing, carefully landing on the other side before crossing the rest of the footbridge.

Not long after that, he faltered into a stop again. This time, he thought he’d heard footsteps behind him. He waited for a moment, shoulders hunched and his ears straining to listen to any noise, but there was nothing but the cold breeze and his quiet breathing. He resumed his walking.

Eventually, he heard the noises again but it was clearer this time; he could make out a second set of footsteps shadowing his own. Someone was following him. They made no effort to match the pacing of his steps. There was a languidness in their walking, as if they were casually strolling behind him, waiting for him to notice them. When Chance stopped again, the footsteps did so too.

He felt tempted to turn around and face his pursuer but that only meant he would be revealing his face.

No, he needed to get away from them.

Chance searched the trees from where he stood stiffly still, found the largest gap between two tree trunks and beyond that, a route that was likely filled with obstacles which would be difficult for his pursuer to follow, took a deep breath – and flew towards it.

The cold wind rushed at his face, making his hood fall back from his head. Sprinting through the forest, he only saw shapes in his vision and a split second to process what they were before he reacted. He glanced off obstructing tree trunks, dodged and rolled under low, thin branches, vaulted over snow-capped rocks and shrubs – all without a pause in his running. It was a lot easier to do this in an urban area though, around buildings and concrete walls and ledges where it took less time to figure out where to leap and roll and climb and land on his feet. But he was here right now and he had to improvise just to get whoever was following him off his back.

When he was sure he reached a good distance away from the original path he had strayed, he finally skidded to a stop, his shoes kicking up snow. Although his body felt warm from the running, the sweat on his skin was already cooling in the cold air, making him shiver. He looked back at where he came. No one followed him.

He slumped, sighing in relief.

“what’s the hurry, buddy?” said a voice from behind him.

Chance startled and spun around. Then he startled again when he spotted a figure leaning against the trees. It was too dark to see what it looked like but two things stood out of that gloom – a single eye, flashing blue and yellow, floating languidly above a wide grin full of white teeth.

He leapt back, putting some distance between them and brought his arms up, hands curled into fists, ready to block.

“well, aren’t we ready to fight,” observed the dark figure as it slunk out of the shadow of the trees. A short, stocky skeleton stood before him in the snow. It wore a blue hoodie over a white shirt, black shorts with white stripes showing off the bones of its legs, and shoes with untied laces. The glowing eye was gone the moment it stepped out of the shadows and in its place were a pair of black eye sockets with a light in them, appearing so much like eye pupils. The wide grin stayed the same, however, the jaw never unhinging or moving even as it spoke.

A Skeleton Monster. That was new.

When the Skeleton paused, it occurred to Chance that perhaps it was waiting for him to speak. So he did.

“You… You scared me,” he told it, his voice wavering a little. “You were the one following me. You made that branch break.”

“and you can sense magic, can’t you?” it stated slowly, almost lazily. “or at least you can smell it in the air and know that it’s magic.”

Chance didn’t reply to that and silence fell between them for a moment. He studied the Skeleton closely, trying to figure out why it was following him and what it wanted to do with him. It was difficult to make out anything on the Monster’s face or guess what it might be thinking about. There were no facial muscles for it to form any kind of expression and the wide grin it wore never changed. It watched him calmly though, judging from the way it stood lounging in the snow, hands in its pockets. It seemed to be waiting to see what he would do next.

After a few seconds, Chance lowered his arms a little and finally spoke. “Who are you?”

He thought it might be a trick of the light but something in the Skeleton’s face changed, perhaps a movement made around the eye sockets. Whatever it was, it made its face appear almost amused.

“oh really? is that how you wanna play it?” it chuckled but there was no mirth or warmth or amusement in its voice. “well, kid. i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

Again, something in its face changed as it leaned its head back and continued to calmly watch him, its whole demeanour appearing easy-going and relaxed. “so tell me. how’d you get here?”

“I-I don’t know,” Chance answered, fighting back the itch to raise his arms again. “I honestly don’t remember.”

He was alarmed when his heart began to race in his chest. It was a sign of the adrenaline spike he would sometimes get whenever his gut sensed that he was in an unsafe situation right now. He immediately understood why. There was always something dangerous about being unable to read someone’s expressions; it became difficult to predict their next movements.

Oh god. This was bad. This was very bad.

His answer made the Skeleton chuckle as it shook its head. “you got some nerve, kid,” it was saying and there it was: a new tenor in its voice, a deep, dark tremor that spoke of a storm ready to break. “…some nerve coming back here. after all this time…”

It paused for a while. Then it turned its head a little and Chance felt the full force of its intense stare when the lights in its eye sockets trained straight on him.

“you know what?” sighed the Skeleton. “there’s really no point in going any further. i say we finish this right now. i’m so sick of takin’ any more chances with you, kid. this time…”

The lights in the its eye sockets vanished, leaving a hollow, black emptiness behind. **“… I’m sending you straight to hell.** ”

A massive creature suddenly materialised out of thin air from behind the Skeleton. Chance had only half a second to take in the sharp animal-like features, the glowing eyes, and the fact that it was just a floating skull before its fanged jaws fell open and a bright powerful beam of energy blasted out of its mouth.

Chance’s whole world lit up with light.

He threw himself to the side just in time. Felt the heat of the energy blast shoot past him and strike the ground. A pile of snow and dirt exploded into the air from the impact. Chance rolled out of the way as he felt debris rain down on him. He jumped back on his feet and was thrown back to the snow again when something struck him hard on the face, followed by another and another, a torrent of long, thin objects that struck sharp and stinging and was tingling with magical energy.

"Arrghh!" he managed to put his arms up, tucking his head into the inside of his elbows to block this assault. Parts of his face stung and smarted and he heard the clatter of the objects battering onto him land in the snow. He looked at the ground and found a pile of bones lying all around him.

Then the torrent was over. He peered out from behind his arms. Swore. Acted. Jumped up and threw himself out of the way of another energy blast. The ground shook beneath his feet. His ears rang and his head spun, his mind trying desperately to put together what was going on and how to come up with something effective to combat this. If only he could get his thoughts in order. If only he could buy some time–!

“Hey!” he yelled as he stumbled back up on his feet, ran and then doubled back when another shower of bones came pelting down his way. “Hey! You! S-Sans! Sans, right? Come on! Let’s talk about this! Please stop! Just stop and let’s talk!”

"no more talking,” remarked the Skeleton with a shrug of indifference. “we’ve done all that in the past, kid. like i said. we’re ending this now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about–” Chance tried to protest but then cursed when the massive skull-faced creature materialised right in front of him and opened its jaws again. He dropped to the ground and watched as the energy blast shot over him. He rolled out of the way, climbed back onto his feet and then ran for the trees.

“oh no you don’t.”

The Skeleton appeared so suddenly in front of him that it must have teleported. Its left arm shot out of its pocket, palm up towards Chance, and one of its eyes flashed blue and yellow. He felt an invisible force lift him from the ground and, before he knew it, he was thrown backwards with such power that it tore a scream out of his throat as he sailed across the air. He landed with a crash, the impact causing his body to bounce and roll in the snow, backpack knocking against his back, until he finally came to a stop. He gasped and coughed, tried to breathe.

The Skeleton was saying something but Chance couldn’t hear its words. He was busy trying to get the air back into his lungs. He didn’t quite understand it but he felt as if some form of magic was draining the strength out of his body. His muscles felt like lead, too heavy to lift. The corners of his vision were flashing purple.

He watched a bone materialise several feet above him, the end facing him filed into a sharp point. It was going to drop on him. Chance forced himself to roll onto his stomach, curling his whole body into a ball, his head tucked into his arms before he felt the impact of the bone stabbing into the thick fabric of his backpack. He scrambled back onto his feet again, his vision swaying, still flashing a strange shade of purple around the corners, and turned, looking for the Skeleton.

It had teleported again. It now stood closer to him, just a few metres away or so, calmly watching him as he trembled and struggled to stay on his feet.

“you’re good,” it commented but nothing in its expression or voice told him that it was actually impressed by Chance’s display. “didn’t die even once and come back for the next round.”

“I don’t know… what you’re… talking… about…” Chance panted, his voice shaking. He noticed there was a crack in the corner of one of the lenses of his glasses. Oh, just perfect. “Look… I’m not… I’m not here to hurt anyone–”

“sure you’re not,” the Skeleton interrupted.

Chance gritted his teeth, irritated, and marched on. “I only want to leave this pla–”

“sure you are,” continued the interruption.

“I’m telling the fucking truth!” Chance snapped, now aggravated.

“of course ya are,” came the smooth, nonchalant counter. “and i’m totally not gonna kill you.”

And with that, the Skeleton conjured up another row of bones and, like loyal soldiers, they rushed at him, one by one, battering against the shield of his arms until one of them broke through and struck him across the mouth.

Blood dripped onto the snow at his feet.

 

* * *

Two minutes later – two long minutes that felt like two hours – Chance knew he couldn’t take it anymore.

Sans the Skeleton was a ruthless Monster, entirely unforgiving and merciless with its attacks. No sooner had Chance got his breath back after the latest assault of bones, he had to act again before he was blasted apart by the skull creature and then avoid getting skewered when a row of sharpened bones shot up from the ground by his feet.

He had tried pleading with the Skeleton, the very same method he’d used with Toriel. But every time he tried to talk or explain himself, the Skeleton would rudely interrupt him, would scoff at his attempts, would answer sarcastically that of _course_ it believed every word that Chance said, before it sent its skull creature to shoot another energy blast at his back this time.

Chance had tried the tactic he’d done with Flowey, which was trying to get close enough to the Skeleton in hopes that he would get it to retreat. He’d dodged and ducked and danced his way across the space separating them, avoiding energy blasts and magical bones, but every time he got within close proximity of the Skeleton, it teleported away to a different place and he would have to start again. In the end, it was just near impossible to reach it.

Unlike Toriel, the Skeleton did not seem alarmed by the thought that Chance was trying to get close enough to touch it. Unlike Flowey, it did not flinch away when Chance tried to approach it either.

And unlike any of the Monsters he’d encountered so far, Sans the Skeleton was not afraid of him.

Which meant that it was actually serious about wanting to kill him. It really wanted him  _dead._

A cold spike of fear hit him at this realisation and Chance understood for the first time since he found himself in this strange place that he was actually in real, unadulterated danger. There was no one he could call for help. There was nothing he could do to persuade this mysterious force to stop attacking him. He was facing a creature with powers unimaginable and he was just a lowly Human.

This was just all kinds of fucked up.

He had to flee. He had to escape. Or he was going to die. He was going to fucking _die._

He tried hard to think of another strategy. A new one. Something. _Something_. But what? He was at his wits’ end. He was tired and bleeding and bruising and unable to think properly. But he was also afraid and desperate; he felt a strong primitive drive within him stubbornly pushing him to survive by any means. Surely, there was something else he could do so that he would be able to run away?

In the end, it was the stupidest thing. And perhaps it was _because_ it was the stupidest thing that it caught the Skeleton off-guard.

“you not dead yet?” it asked in a soft deadly voice during one of the rare times it stopped attacking just so it could speak a few words to him. “just give up. it’s really easy. ya only need to sit still. it’ll only take a second to wipe you out from the face of the earth.”

By this point, Chance was barely holding himself up. His legs were shaking from where he stood on the spot. His arms throbbed and seared with pain as they hung uselessly by his sides. His vision blurred and went clear again. The area around them had become a ruined wasteland – the ground and tree trunks blackened by the energy blasts, bones of all shapes and sizes littered the naked earth, and drops of blood stained the melting ice red.

And Chance, weakened, battered, desperate and on his last legs, gathered whatever energy he had left for his next move. His only move.

“I got… one last question for you…” he gasped with an air of urgency that demanded attention. He saw the lights in the Skeleton’s eye sockets brighten for a second and it stood there, waiting. Surprisingly, it was interested; it was listening for once.

Chance took a deep breath, pointed at a random direction behind the Skeleton, and yelled at the top of his lungs: “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

Because fucking Marty McFly had said the same line in every _Back to the Future_ movie and that stupid line had a 100% success rate of distracting people long enough for McFly to flee the scene.

Sans the Skeleton, completely and utterly caught off-guard by the outburst, jumped at the unexpected volume of his voice and whipped its head around to stare at the trees behind it.

“what–?”

The moment the Skeleton turned its attention away, Chance turned tail and bolted out of the area like a bat out of hell.

This time, the Skeleton was not fast enough to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once more for stopping by and dedicating some of your time to reading this unorthodox tale. Again, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. "If you would be so kind, traveller,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the protagonist gets some unexpected help in the form of shelter and directions and unfortunately experiences some more mental breakdowns along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the readers who had left Kudos and very kind Comments for the previous chapter!

Chance had never run so hard in his life.

The forest flew past him in a flash of monochrome grey and white. With the threat of danger behind him, his sprinting was a graceless scramble as he tore through gaps between trees, stumbled under branches and tripped over shrubs. He lost count of how many times he slipped and slid on the snow. Once, he had crashed straight into a thick tree trunk, the impact sending him tumbling unceremoniously to the ground. He had quickly clambered back up on his feet in a daze and immediately dashed away from the area, ignoring the pain pulsing through his limbs from his fall.

The thought of being caught by the Skeleton or its skull creature and be blasted into pieces was the one thing that spurred him to keep on running like there was no tomorrow. He was running on pure instinct and fear, like a frightened prey scarpering away from danger with no idea of which direction he was going. What only mattered was to get as far, far away from the Skeleton as he possibly could.

He ran until his legs burned, until his lungs burned, until he was out of strength and out of breath, until at last his knees collapsed underneath him, his feet tripped over each other and he was somersaulting head-first into a pile of snow. When he emerged, he was gasping, coughing, heaving for air like a man who had just surfaced from a deep lake. The hood of his jacket had flopped forwards, courtesy of his fall, covering his head. He found the snow to be a welcome distraction to his exhausted, battered and sweating body and he spent some time buried there, counting his long and deep heaving breaths, feeling his heart hammering hard in his chest. Now that he was able to snatch a moment for himself, he began to notice that his left arm felt strange, the whole limb was tender and it hurt when he tried to flex his wrist.

“Hello!” greeted a voice. Chance stiffened, his functioning hand shooting up to cover his mouth and stifle his breathing. He dared not to move.

“Hello?” the voice called out again. It sounded friendly albeit a little muffled, as if its owner was speaking in the wrong direction. “Hello? Is somebody there?”

With hand still over his mouth, Chance cautiously peeked up from where he lay on his side in the snow. He was in a clearing in the forest that formed part of a snowy ledge overlooking a black void. Above him were strange thick and heavy clouds of grey. On the ground, there was no one around except for a small dead shrub sprouting from the snow next to him and a tall heap of sculpted snow erected a few metres away. The voice, he suddenly realised, was coming from it. He could make out a round bulbous head sitting atop of a bigger, rounder bulbous body.

“I heard you come by,” said the heap of sculpted snow – a Snowman – and Chance noticed that it had its back to him and could not see him. “You sound winded, like you had been running. Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer. He was exhausted. His lungs and legs were burning and he realised in alarm that he couldn’t move. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself or run away if the Snowman decided to attack him.

“Oh. Oh dear.” The Snowman sounded worried. “You are not speaking. Are you hurt? Let me see you. I do not do this very often. I am a Snowman. I cannot move most of the time, but if someone is hurt… Please, wait there. I am going to try and see you–”

To his horror, the Snowman began to glow, filling the air around them with the smell and hum of magical energy, and Chance half expected it to stand up on legs and turn around and look at him. Then, to his bewilderment, the creature’s whole structure suddenly collapsed, large pieces of snow breaking off its body and crumpling into smaller fragments to dissolve into the ground. Soon, there was nothing left but a large pile of soft ice. Then the shimmer of magical energy in the air told him that all was not over. He watched the pile of snow build itself back up again, pieces of ice rolling back into place, forming the body all the way up to the bulbous head.

Chance snapped out of his daze when he realised that he only had a split second before the Snowman assembled itself completely and would finally see him. He had nowhere to hide in this clearing and nowhere to go; his legs lay useless underneath him, he had no more energy to move and one of his arms was throbbing in a familiar kind of pain which he didn’t want to think about. He still had his right hand pressed over his mouth though but it was not enough to cover his face and prevent him from being recognised.

Just as the Snowman’s black buttons and eyes – made out of rocks, Chance noted – popped out of its snowy body and head, he seized the collar of his jacket and yanked it upwards and over his nose as a desperate attempt to conceal the lower half of his face. His hood was thankfully already covering his head. Now, the only things anyone could see of him were his eyes and his glasses.

The Snowman immediately spotted him from under its long and pointy orange nose. For a moment, Chance couldn’t breathe. He thought it could see through his pathetic disguise and was probably going to attack him at any moment. He tensed from where he lay, helpless, heart in his mouth and his body bracing for the subsequent reaction.

“Ah, there you are,” said the Snowman brightly through its unmoving smile which was made up of a row of thin black twigs stuck to the bottom half of its face, shaped in an upward curve. “Oh my. You look hurt. Do you need some help? Not that I can help a great deal. I cannot move much at all, you see.”

As the Snowman waited for an answer, Chance decided that it was probably safer to respond lest it decided to investigate further and find out what he was.

“I-I’m–” His voice was muffled into his jacket. He still sounded breathless from his run. “I’m fine. Th-thank you.”

“Just needed to sit down and rest, is it?” the Snowman chatted amicably.

“Uh, yes.”

“Of course, you are welcome. Sit down and rest all you like. Plenty of snow to go around.”

It occurred to Chance then – even though it was extremely difficult to read any expression on the Snowman’s frozen face or guess its thoughts unless he made out the tone of its voice – that despite his poor disguise, the Snowman did not recognise him as a Human. So far, it was not showing any signs of wanting to attack him nor was there any fear or spite. Chance was maybe safe for now as long as he kept most of his face hidden.

They stayed there in a moment of strangely companionable silence, listening to the breeze rustling through the tall trees of the dark forest surrounding them. Chance continued to lie there, his stomach churning in growing worry and anxiety over the condition of his left arm. He wanted to leave that clearing and any other creature that hummed with magic and find an area that was safe enough to inspect his injuries. He dreaded to think about what he would find.

The silence between them didn’t stay that way for very long because the Snowman began to chat again: “I do not get many visitors here. Or many folks walking in this direction. In fact, not many stay out late at night. It could get dangerous.”

It was night time? Chance wouldn’t have guessed that that was really the case. If it really had been night, this clearing would have appeared dark and enshrouded in shadows. After all, there was no moon in the sky nor any sign of the sun. In fact, there seemed to be something wrong with the sky anyway. Those grey clouds were hanging unnaturally low above them. They looked close enough that birds could easily touch them.

“How…” Chance wondered aloud, trying to ignore the pain in his arm for the moment. “How do you know it’s night time?”

“Hm?” the Snowman made a noise that requested further clarification.

“If it was night time, I wouldn’t be able to see you.” There were no street lamps or sources of light around. Despite this lack, he was able to see the clearing and the trees and the Snowman and everything else as clear as if this was daytime.

“Oh but it _is_ ,” asserted the Snowman. “It is night time because there are not many who wander into the forest. It is very quiet now because everyone has gone back home and are sleeping in their beds. Of course, it is not good to stay out late. It is better to stay inside. It is safer.”

Still unconvinced by this explanation, Chance tilted his head up a little, glancing at the unnaturally low clouds. “Is there… a moon behind those clouds?”

The Snowman paused in its speaking, the pleasant smiling face never changing. “What is a moon?” it eventually asked.

If there was no moon, then there was possibly no sky. Which meant that he was not actually outside despite the snow and the forest – this could explain why this whole place was called the Underground. That being said, those clouds up there were possibly not even clouds at all. And this ledge they were on… well, if he fell off the edge, he didn’t know if he would ever reach a bottom.

“Never mind,” Chance dismissed quickly. “You said that it might get dangerous in the night time. Is it because of the Monsters?” He was thinking about the Skeleton in particular, a Monster who prowled the dark forest and sent its skull creature after any unsuspecting travellers unfortunate enough to wander into its snowy path.

“The Monsters?” exclaimed the Snowman in an amused tone. “Of course not, silly. Because of the _Humans._ You never know if a Human might walk by here. They will kill you if you are not mindful.”

A heavy feeling of uneasiness settled in his stomach at the correction. Of _course_ the Snowman thought that Humans posed a danger to everyone too. And then Chance repeated the words it had just said in his head. A spark of hope rose in his chest as a thought formed in his mind.

“So Humans come here all the time?” he asked casually because that was what he surmised from the Snowman’s remark. If there were other Humans around, he could go search for them, find them and ask them for their help and maybe then he could finally get out of this place for good. “Where do these Humans live?”

“Oh, they do not live in the Underground. They do not live anywhere. They fell from above. Always one Human, never more. It is a good thing that the ones who have passed here are already dead.” For a subject as morbid as death, the Snowman’s tone was light and cheerful and Chance felt his entire body slump in disappointment at the disclosure of this information.

“… So there are no Humans here. At all?” he asked, grimacing beneath the collar of his jacket.

“Let us hope not! Humans like to kill things just because they can. They kill everything. Even Snowmen.” At this utterance, the Snowman hesitated in its speaking. It seemed to be trying to recall something from memory. “Humans,” it continued to say. “They take and take and keep taking pieces of snow apart until there is nothing left. Even if you beg them to stop, they will not stop until all is gone. It is very strange though. I have never met a Human before but… I know that this is what they will do.”

Chance had no idea what the Snowman was rambling on about. Because just then, there was a mighty _crack_ that startled him so much he flinched in the snow and something rumbled and rolled above them like a great beast waking from its slumber. A statically charged gust of warm air that smelled strongly of sharp ozone washed over them and then, as if the ceiling suddenly burst open, it began to snow very heavily. Thick, fat flurries of ice and sleet cascaded down onto his hooded head. The sudden snowstorm was so dense that he couldn’t see through his glasses.

“Oh dear!” cried the Snowman from somewhere in front of him, hidden behind a wall of falling snow. “What a storm! You should go find some shelter.”

“Where _is_ the shelter?” Chance yelled into the blizzard, shaking his head to clear the icy flurries that stuck to the lens of his glasses. His body shivered from the cold, relentless wind.

“You won’t be able to go to Snowdin Town in this weather!” he heard the Snowman yell back. “You might get lost on the way. You might even run into a Human. No, it is best that you stay in here for a while.” The pile of snow next to Chance suddenly shuddered to life and he jerked back when the snow shifted, rolled itself into shapes around the dead shrub and began to merge together. The next thing he knew, he was looking at a small igloo that was big enough to fit himself in it. He gaped at the sight.

“There,” declared the Snowman’s voice. “I cannot make a fire but I hope this is enough to shelter you for the moment.”

“Thank you!” Chance managed to impart the words before he wasted no more time waiting in the snow. Keeping his face still hidden underneath his collar, he climbed back onto his feet in a crouch and, cradling his left arm close to his chest, began to make his way across the snow to reach the little tunnel opening on the side of the igloo. Once he dragged himself inside, he was relieved when the cold wind stopped blowing into his face. It was surprisingly bright and cosy in the igloo; he could clearly see the blocks of snow stacked together to form its dome and the shrub he’d seen from outside in here, sprouting awkwardly from the middle of the floor. The fact that the interior of this shelter was somehow lit up with some kind of unseen, natural light source was probably just another magic thing – like a night time where the surroundings appeared as clear as day.

Chance made sure that his back was to the entrance before he sat and pulled down his collar, gulping for breath after having his nose and mouth covered up for so long. The air around him was cold, freezing every breath he expelled into billows of white mist. After a minute or two of listening to the blizzard outside, he took a deep breath and finally got down to examine himself.

He found that he didn’t want to look at his left arm. The thought of seeing what lay underneath the sleeve sent a flurry of panic in his chest. He turned away and settled with checking out his other injuries first.

Certain parts of his face were swollen and they stung when he cautiously traced them with his fingertips. There was also a nasty, vicious cut across his lips, the skin surrounding them sore and puffy courtesy of the magical bone that had struck him there. When Chance licked at it, it began to bleed profusely.

“Oh shit.” He hurriedly wiped the blood that was trickling onto the front of his jacket, staining the sandy-coloured fabric. Even Fritz’s poor jacket had become dirty, scuffed from the many times he had been thrown to the ground. As he inspected the frayed cuff, he noticed the motley bruises running down the back of his right hand and disappearing under the strips of cloth wrapped around his wrist.

There would be more under there. His arms had borne the brunt of the Skeleton’s blows after all, seeing as he’d used them extensively to shield himself from its brutal attacks. It was possible that the trauma inflicted onto his limbs was so severe, especially on his left arm, that…

Chance felt another flurry of panic rise in his throat and he forcefully swallowed it down. He had no other choice– he _had_ to assess the damage.

When he attempted to slowly and carefully shrug off his jacket with one arm, the movement to his injured one almost made him feel sick to his stomach. He clamped down his jaw, shutting his watering eyes tight and tried to suppress the waves of pain sailing up his arm. He mustn’t stop now. He had to get the jacket off. He needed to see–

Somehow, he managed this endeavour successfully without passing out, barely noticing the cold air raising goosebumps along his heated, feverish skin. When he was ready, he got down to unwrapping the strips of cloth from his left wrist. With every inch of his skin slowly being exposed, the horror for what he found there grew to the point where he began to feel physically sick again at the sight before him. His whole arm was swollen, especially around an area where the skin was mottled with ugly blotches of bright angry reds, deep blues, and purple shades so dark that they almost looked black. The whole thing felt painful and it _hurt_ to move or twist anything, not his wrist nor his fingers.

Chance had broken his wrist once before. He was six and he fell off the jungle gym in the park. He couldn’t remember much about what happened before or after that incident except that he couldn’t stop crying from the searing pain and that his throbbing, itching casted wrist kept him up all night. He had also once tended to someone who had landed on his arm in the middle of a sparring session and had come away with a broken hand. Injuries at the gym were not an uncommon occurrence and it was always useful to have some knowledge and skills in basic first aid.

If he had snapped a bone back home, it would be a simple thing to just reach for a phone and dial for an ambulance. There would also be people around who were willing to help. He would be tended to and cared for in a proper way and recover quickly if all went well. But here - here, he was alone and trapped in an unfamiliar and unwelcoming place, far away from home or any kind of professional medical help. He was fucked. He was fucked. Oh _god_ he was so _fucked_ –!

And he was panicking. He fully realised that he was panicking because it was getting difficult to breathe, his heart was racing in his chest, his chest was tight and his mind felt ready to snap from the waves of anxiety and fear threatening to overwhelm him. He had to stop, he had to stop himself _now_ before he blacked out.

“Chance, Chance,” he gasped to himself, pressing his right hand onto his chest, over his beating heart while his poor wretched and swollen left arm lay limp and useless across his lap. “Calm the fuck _down._ ” He repeated his comforting mantra – “My name is Chance. I’m alive and I need to calm down” – because it was the only fucking thing he had left that could help him wrestle back his control. After some time, he was able to calm himself down, gulping lungfuls of cold air down his dry throat. He couldn’t quite stop his body shaking though. His cheeks were a warm, wet mess of tears.

He looked down at his arm. He wasn’t sure what he would do about it in the long term but he did understand that one shouldn’t move a broken limb for fear that the movement could damage it further. If he was to continue his travels, then he would have to improvise something. He glanced at his backpack, thought about the contents inside and then averted his gaze over to the small shrub in the middle of the igloo. An idea formed in his head.

He got up and, with some difficulty, went to work.

 

* * *

The makeshift splint and sling were sloppily made, cobbled together using the available materials at his disposal, but they were the best he could do for now.

He had spent a substantial amount of time applying a snowball, wrapped in his torn hoodie, to the swelling in his left arm. Afterwards, he had snapped off two of the thickest and sturdiest branches he could get from the shrub in the centre of the igloo, set them on either side of his arm and fastened them in place with the rolls of athletic tape extracted from his bag. He had then padded the arm further with one of his cleaner towels and then secured it with several strips of cloth he’d previously used as wrist wraps.

The sling had been made from one of the square cloths used to wrap portions of Toriel’s pie. It had been an infuriating and painful effort to keep the folded cloth over his neck and shoulder and tie the ends together with just one hand. Every movement he made had nudged against his injured arm, regardless of the splint, and he had to stop several times to let the feeling of light-headedness fade away from his head. Once, out of careless frustration, he had accidentally jostled the arm too hard that the pain which shot through it was indescribable. He’d been left hunched over, gasping for breath, feeling pained tears dripping all over the lens of his glasses at the agonising sensation.

All of this only made him think back to how his arms had obtained this horrifyingly abused state. He thought back to the clash against the Skeleton and its terrible skull creature, to the magical bones that had flown at him at full speed, inflicting him with blow upon blow. He thought back to the way the Skeleton had lounged about in the snow before him, calm and collected, watching him with a dark and murderous intent in its black gaze.

 _of course ya are_ – it had told him in a voice that was as empty as its eye sockets – _and i’m totally not gonna kill you._

It had been deadly serious about its intention. It really wanted to kill him. Chance had almost died _._

He had almost _died._

_What the fuck….?_

At once, the full realisation hit him like a slap in the face. He might have had this same shocking revelation whilst in the middle of that unexpected assault and he had to think fast and hard to find an exit, but this… looking at the evidence in his broken arm now, seeing the true motive of that Monster manifesting on him in this way…

No. This – this was fucking _real._ That Skeleton wanted to break him, wanted to crush him, wanted to reduce him to dust. It wanted him dead, gone… to fucking _disappear._ The thought was too much for him, too much to process in his mind, that he heard the sound of something whining a low, keening noise of pain and fear in the small space of the igloo. He realised that the sound was coming from himself.

His whole body shook uncontrollably again as he crouched there in the snowy ground, feeling helpless with shock. When a loud sob escaped his mouth, he clapped his functioning hand over it, choking down the rest of the sounds that were threatening to come up his throat. He forced himself to breathe, to keep holding himself together, to calm down. He refused to lose control again, not this time, not after he had gone through the pain of patching himself up with one arm. He could do this. He was going to be fine. He was going to be _fine._

Whatever happened after this, one thing was for certain – he needed to hide himself away from that Skeleton at all costs.

Sometime later, after regaining his composure, he slumped forwards, feeling raw and exhausted from repeatedly wearing himself out and dropped his hand from his mouth. His palm was smeared with blood from the cut on his lips. The wound had started bleeding again. He sighed exasperatedly, too tired to be irritated by anything right now, and reached into his backpack for some ointment.

When his hand found the portions of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, he suddenly remembered its magical healing properties. He almost broke down again, this time in relief at this recollection, and silently thanked Toriel for baking a dish so big.

 

* * *

Chance couldn’t sleep.

Some time had passed since he’d wolfed down some of the pie. It had gone unpleasantly cold, the texture of the dish softening into mush in his mouth, but it was thankfully still delicious on his tongue. He had felt a soft and warm tingling sensation spreading down his gullet as the magic started working to heal him. It was a slow process though. He had waited for a moment to see if any of his wounds would heal in front of his eyes. So far, the most it had done was to lessen the swelling on his face, change the colour of the bruises on his right hand and stop the bleeding on his lacerated lips.

The best thing though was that the healing magic numbed the pain in his broken arm. Now, it only hurt if he moved it too much and there were no waves of pain or discomfort shooting up his limb due to the cold temperature.

After that, he had carefully draped his jacket on, sliding only one arm into one sleeve and leaving the other hanging in its sling under the clothing. He then set his backpack onto the floor and sat on top of it, curling into a ball in an attempt to gather some warmth but to no avail; the temperature was still too cold to allow him any form of comfort. Shivering, he buried his face into his knees, the arm sling digging uncomfortably into his neck as he tucked his chin under the collar of his jacket and tried to doze off into some semblance of sleep.

He found himself dreaming – or day-dreaming – of warm interiors, soft beds and hot food.

The wait for the snowstorm to end was torture.

 

* * *

He jerked back into consciousness when he realised that he no longer heard the howling sound of the wind anymore. When he peered through the little tunnel that opened to the outside world, no sight of falling snow greeted him. It was finally over.

Chance managed to stop himself from foolishly scrambling out of his shelter without preparation. He couldn’t go out there with his face exposed for everyone to see. He had to conceal it. His hand drifted to the collar of his jacket and he realised that he wouldn’t be able to walk around for long with his collar pulled up over his face. He had to find something else.

His fingers idly brushed against the bandanna still tied around his neck. An idea hit him. _Yes,_ fucking of _course_.

About a minute later, Chance emerged from the igloo, backpack dangling off one shoulder, his left arm sagging awkwardly in the sling, hood covering his head and Fritz’s orange bandanna concealing the lower half of his face. The snow had thickened all around him, coating the surroundings in a glistening misty white, and the air felt frostier than ever. The Snowman still stood where he last saw it, its smile forever frozen on its face.

“Oh! Hello!” The Snowman sounded pleased to see him. It also did not comment on the arm sling or the bandanna covering his face. “I trust you had a good rest?”

Chance didn’t, but he supposed that telling the Snowman how he’d struggled to fall asleep in an igloo in the middle of a snowstorm with a broken arm sounded a bit rude because it might implicate he was ungrateful for the provision of his shelter. He nodded to the creature instead.

“That is good to know. I am afraid it is still night time though. Perhaps you should stay and sleep longer until the day arrives,” suggested the Snowman.

Chance did not want to crawl back inside the igloo and attempt to sleep a second time. He did not want to stay outside in the snow any longer.

“Thanks for the shelter,” he said appreciatively, his voice muffled under his bandanna. “But I feel like I should keep moving. To a town. You mentioned there was a town, right?”

“Yes, Snowdin.”

“Right. How do I get there?”

The Snowman relayed to him some straightforward directions, the gist of them being that he should keep heading east where he would eventually hit the town. “If you keep passing the sentry huts, that means you are going the right way,” it added.

“Sentry huts…?” Chance felt a wave of anxiety rise in his chest.

“Yes, the sentry huts. They have been set up to keep a careful lookout for Humans,” explained the Snowman. “Most of them are manned by the Snowdin Canine Unit. You might get to meet them on the way.”

Chance made a mental note _not_ to meet any of these sentries on the way to town. He would have to find a way to sneak past without being seen, regardless of the concealment of half his face.

There was a brief silence between them for a moment. And then the Snowman said, “I believe this is goodbye for now?”

“I guess so.” Chance was struck by the wave of gratitude he felt for the Snowman’s help, for its friendliness towards him, for the kindness it offered to him in the form of shelter and directions. He was almost sad to part ways with it. But then he thought of the possibility of the Snowman attacking him with snow and ice if he took off his bandanna and revealed to it his face. No, it was better if he left right now.

“Thank you.” He made sure he sounded indebted and genuine. He wished he could give the Snowman more than just two words to reflect the extent of how he felt.

“I was wondering if you could do something for me,” said the Snowman suddenly. “I always wanted to see the world but as you already know, I cannot move much. If I give you a piece of me, will you bring it with you?”

Chance faltered in his answer for a second. He hadn’t expected such a request. “Um. I guess it depends…? Will you be talking to me?”

“Oh no. It is only a piece of myself. I will still be here,” the Snowman explained. “But I shall be able to feel and taste a different environment through my piece if you take it from place to place. I would be travelling but doing so indirectly.”

“But where would I put it? I don’t think I can carry it in my hand all the time.”

“You may wrap it up. Store it. But do bring it with you on your travels. Do not worry too much about it. It will not melt or break apart. Not in any weather or condition. It will remain intact. Just please, do not lose it.”

It seemed like a harmless enough request. Chance had only one last question before he could make a final decision. “How far do you want me to take it?”

“To the ends of the earth,” came the reply and the prospect sounded tempting and exciting. Indeed, it was the thing that clinched the deal.

“Alright,” he agreed with a nod and then waited. “What do I…?”

“Hold out your hand,” the Snowman instructed. He did so.

He was briefly embarrassed to see the bruised skin of his palm as he extended his right hand to the Snowman. The Snowman, however, made no comment or took any notice of the contusions. Instead, its body began to glow, the cold air between them rippling with energy, and then a snow piece popped out of its torso and hopped into his open hand. Chance almost dropped it in surprise.

“There you go.” There was no hole in the Snowman’s body from where the piece of it had been separated. In fact, you couldn’t even tell if it really _did_  just scoop out a chunk of itself and dumped it into Chance’s hand.

“I wish you good luck, lone wanderer,” it then said, and quite warmly too for a magical being made of snow. “And many, many thanks for your kindness in taking me with you on your adventure.”

Cradling the cold snow piece in his hand, Chance offered his goodbye to the Snowman, took a few steps back, nodded at it one last time, before he turned around and left the clearing.

 

* * *

Chance decided he hated snow.

His feet felt like two heavy blocks of ice at the ends of his legs. He dragged them through the thick and crunchy snow, his shoes disappearing up to his ankles and leaving deep groves in his wake. His body shivered in the frigid temperature, his breath seeping under his bandanna in thin clouds of mist. It took a while to get used to having a piece of fabric over your nose and mouth but it was better than leaving them exposed to the icy air. All the while, his arm sling continued to dig into his neck, the cloth rubbing uncomfortably against the skin there.

He had wrapped the Snowman piece with his torn hoodie and stuffed the whole thing back into his backpack before he continued on his way. The forest path he was trudging through was bright and open-spaced and much more welcoming to travellers compared to the dark sinister road flanked tightly by trees leading back to the Ruins. Chance kept himself close to the trees on this path though, making sure he had opportunities to dart for cover when the situation called for it.

As he crossed a large square clearing, he tripped over something buried in the soft ice. It was some sort of strange blue orb. He picked it up in curiosity, turning and examining it. Then he took a step back.

A burning, tingling sensation shot through his right hand where the skin made contact with the orb and his whole body vibrated involuntarily, his muscles cramping up immediately. He dropped the round object with a gasp and the shocking sensation ceased. After quickly inspecting his injured arm and found it to be okay, he glared at the orb by his feet and kicked the damn thing away where it rolled and disappeared into the snow. He then made an annoyed sound. An orb that delivered an electric shock? Who the hell left something like that out here?

A while later, he stumbled across his first pair of sentry huts after he took a left turn and climbed to the top of another snow-covered ledge. When he first spotted the huts from a distance, he had darted behind a tree and warily surveyed the area for a while, only creeping nearer once he was sure nothing moved around the two huts. He studied the twin structures, taking note of the dog engravings carved into the wood, and peered over the counters. There was no one inside. There was no one around. There was also no scent or strong presence of magic either. Perhaps the sentries had gone home or something because of the heavy snowstorm. The wooden sign hammered into the snow nearby only listed down a category of smells attributed to different colours and no other useful information. He glanced at the rim of the ledge, seeing no way forward from there. He must have taken a wrong turn.

When he traced back his steps, he passed another square clearing which he cautiously manoeuvred around and found no more orbs lying on the ground– he did, however, uncover a crumpled piece of paper in the snow. The ice had soaked it through and blurred the ink into an unrecognisable mess. Once he left that clearing, he froze in his tracks when he heard a voice blaring and shattering the usual silence of a snowy night. It was coming from up ahead.

Alarmed, he scrambled for the cover of the trees again, crouching close to the ground before he began to sneak his way to the sound of the voice. It was a loud and clear voice, speaking in a brash and pretentious tone, and it sounded like it was talking to someone but no one replied or returned its declarations. The closer Chance got to it though, the slower and more cautiously his movements became until he reached a thick, snow-capped bush and peered through its dried foliage to gaze into the clearing beyond.

There, standing by a wooden table set up in the middle of that open space, was a very tall Skeleton. The things that immediately stood out about it were the vivid orange-red colours it wore as part of its outfit: the cape draped across its shoulders, the thick gloves covering its hands and the snow boots that were pulled up to its literal bony knees. The bright colours were a sharp and loud contrast against the dull grey and white surroundings of their snowy environment.

The moment Chance saw the Skeleton, he flinched backwards, a wave of panic and fear rising in his chest. He found himself instinctively cradling his injured arm as he curled into a defensive ball and fought back the impulse to bolt away from the area. No one had seen him yet. He was not in danger. He just needed to stay quiet and out of sight. He needed to calm down.

He lifted his head and looked through the foliage again.

He took his time observing the Skeleton closely with watchful, wary eyes. It still stood by the table, talking in that same loud and clear voice, and it was only upon closer inspection that Chance saw that the Monster was actually talking to someone. A small grey mouse sat on its haunches on the surface of that table, its whiskered snout lifted upwards as it listened to the Skeleton’s prattling.

“NO, I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU, THIS IS NOT FOR YOU,” the tall Skeleton was chiding the tiny mouse, the orange-red gloved hands resting on bony hips. “IT IS A TRAP THAT I HAVE CLEVERLY DESIGNED TO ENTICE UNSUSPECTING HUMANS.”

The mouse gave a series of squeaks and high-pitched chatters which Chance found hard to make out what they sounded like. He settled with thinking that the small creature was probably annoyed at the Skeleton for not allowing it to have something it wanted.

“WHAT WILL A HUMAN DO WITH THIS? WHY, IT WILL STOP IN ITS TRACKS AND EAT THIS OF COURSE. IT WILL BE SO DISTRACTED BY THE AMAZING TASTE THAT IT WILL NOT REALISE IT HAS BEEN THOROUGHLY JAPED.”

The mouse replied with another series of squeaks before rubbing its tiny paws all over its furry face. The Skeleton listened and shifted a little to the side, and Chance finally saw what it was that the two creatures were arguing about.

A plate of spaghetti sat in the middle of the table, the juicy red sauce glistening on top of shiny yellow pasta noodles. Billows of hot steam rose from the dish to curl softly into shapes in the cold air. The whole thing looked an enticing, heavenly sight indeed. No wonder the mouse wanted a bite.

Chance couldn’t help but ogle at the dish, hyperaware of the fact that it was a plateful of hot food sitting in a clearing full of snow. He suddenly imagined shoving a forkful of that spaghetti into his mouth and tasting the juicy, sweet-savoury tang of tomatoes and spiced sauce mixed together with buttery, oily pasta noodles. The thought made his mouth water. He had not eaten a hot meal since the warm slice of pie outside the child’s bedroom in Toriel’s house.

“WHAT? NO, IT IS NOT DINNER. IT IS A _TRAP_ ,” the Skeleton interrupted the mouse’s squeaking. “IT’S A TRAP BECAUSE A HUMAN WILL STAY PUT EATING MY SPAGHETTI LONG ENOUGH FOR ME TO ABLE TO CAPTURE IT.”

 _Capture it…?_ Chance felt a knot form in his belly at the words and reminded himself not to be swayed so easily by obvious temptations. He tore his gaze from the plate and eyed the two creatures suspiciously. He thought about getting up and leaving the area since the pair by the table were currently distracted. He almost did so too if it hadn't been for the Skeleton, who had spoken again and began spouting some useful and relevant information:

“THE SPAGHETTI IS _NOT_ POISONED. I DIDN’T PUT ANYTHING IN THIS. IT’S JUST A REGULAR PLATE OF SPAGHETTI. HONESTLY, WHAT MADE YOU THINK I WOULD POISON A HUMAN? IT’S FAR BETTER TO JUST CAPTURE THEM.”

More squeaking commenced from the mouse.

“THAT IS WHAT I SAID. THEY WILL BE SO DISTRACTED BY THEIR EATING THAT THEY WOULD HAVE FORGOTTEN WHAT THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING IN THE FIRST PLACE. THAT WOULD BE THE BEST MOMENT TO SPRING MY TRAP… AFTER I RETURN HERE TOMORROW MORNING, OF COURSE.”

The mouse made some high-pitched chattering noises, its tiny paws waving in the air.

“WHAT IF THE SPAGHETTI GETS COLD AND INEDIBLE? FEAR NOT, FOR I ALREADY HAVE A SOLUTION.” The Skeleton moved aside again and – Chance hadn’t been able to see it from this angle before – there was another much smaller table set next to the first one. A microwave oven sat upon it. Incredible.

The mouse erupted into a sequence of frenzied, rapid squeaking. The Skeleton listening to it looked quite unimpressed.

“NO, I AM NOT DELUSIONAL. OR AN IDIOT. AND THAT WAS VERY RUDE. I CAN SEE WHEN SOMEONE DOES NOT APPRECIATE BRILLIANTLY COOKED PLANS SUCH AS MINE. NOW, AWAY YOU GO, SMALL MOUSE. I HAVE MANY PUZZLES TO RECALIBRATE UP AHEAD. PUZZLES THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE PUT TOGETHER TO CHALLENGE AND BOONDOGGLE THE MINDS OF HUMANS. THE CLOSER THEY GET TO SNOWDIN, THE MORE PUZZLES THEY WILL ENCOUNTER, UNTIL AT LAST, THEY WILL BE SO CAUGHT UP IN SOLVING THEM THAT I WILL BE ABLE TO SWOOP IN AND CAPTURE THEM UNAWARES… AGAIN, ONLY WHEN I RETURN IN THE MORNING FOR IT IS QUITE LATE RIGHT NOW AND I SHOULD RETURN TO BED.”

The mouse replied with some more frenzied squeaking but the Skeleton seemed dismissive, its head turned away as if unwilling to accept any more comments after the smaller creature had insulted it.

“I HAVE SAID MY PIECE. THE ANSWER IS STILL NO. I SUGGEST YOU GO BACK HOME AND LEAVE MY SPAGHETTI ALO– WHAT! HOW DARE YOU!” The Skeleton yelled after the mouse when it snatched a strand of spaghetti off the plate, dropped down from the table and darted into a crack in a rocky wall. By the time the Skeleton thought to chase after it, the mouse and its spaghetti strand were already gone.

“HMP.” The Skeleton lowered the arm it had been waving angrily at the rodent after it had stolen from it. Then it rested both hands on its hips and stood straight in a pose of proud importance. “AT LEAST THERE IS CONFIRMATION THAT MY SPAGHETTI IS SO ENTICING THAT OTHERS HAVE BEEN ENTICED BY IT AS WELL. IT ALL GOES TO SHOW THAT THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS INDEED BRILLIANTLY CRAFTY WHEN IT COMES TO COOKING.”

A strange sound came from the mouse hole after this pretentious declaration – a fit of squeak-like coughing and retching that was followed by some high-pitched chattering. The Skeleton paid no mind to these sounds and was already striding back to the two tables. It then pulled out a fork from an unseen pocket and began gently tidying up the spaghetti, teasing it into place after the mouse had gone and disturbed it. Once it finished, it placed the fork next to the plate and observed the tidied dish in satisfaction.

“YES, IT LOOKS VERY SCRUMPTIOUS NOW,” it declared and then glanced at the mouse hole and paused. The silence it had fallen into seemed thoughtful. “I THINK I SHOULD LEAVE A NEW NOTE THIS TIME,” it finally spoke after a moment. “I CAN’T HAVE PEOPLE EATING MY SPAGHETTI WHEN I SPECIFICALLY MADE THIS FOR HUMANS. THERE WON’T BE ENOUGH TO GO AROUND!”

The Skeleton began pulling out various objects from its unseen pockets and Chance noticed that it wasn’t quite wearing pants so much as a pair of bright blue briefs held up by a golden belt. It then leaned over the table, a pen in hand, and began to scribble something onto a sheet of paper.

“‘DEAR HUMAN,’” it started dictating its own writing aloud. Then it stopped, scratched out the words, crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it over its shoulder. “NO, NO. I SHOULD START WITH SPECIFYING MY AUDIENCE FIRST.”

It then pulled out a new sheet of paper from wherever it had stowed its other possessions and set it on the table, pen poised on the surface in preparation to write. “HMMM…” it hummed thoughtfully. “WHAT ABOUT THIS - ‘FOR HUMANS ONLY. IF YOU ARE NOT A HUMAN, PLEASE DO NOT EAT THE SPAGHETTI FOR IT IS A TRAP’. YES, THAT SOUNDS MUCH BETTER. NOW THAT THAT’S OUT OF THE WAY, I CAN START ADDRESSING THE HUMAN DIRECTLY… ‘DEAR HUMAN’…”

The Skeleton spent a long time composing its note, proclaiming nonsensical words to itself, to the point where Chance was swaying drowsily from where he sat hidden behind the bush, his head nodding off due to the minimal inactivity. He only jerked back into full wakefulness when the Skeleton suddenly gave a cry and brandished its notepaper into the air in a triumphant manner. “I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED. I THINK I’LL LEAVE THIS RIGHT HERE…”

It placed the paper on the table next to the spaghetti before absent-mindedly waving its gloved hand in the air. Something suddenly conjured itself into its palm – a small, thick bone. It then dropped the bone on top of the note to act as a paperweight.

“PERFECT.” The Skeleton stood back proudly to observe its finished task and then turned to go. Halfway across the clearing though, it gave a yelp that startled Chance from behind his cover and stumbled back to the table where it sank to its knees and began to dig into the snow underneath it. A moment later, the Skeleton emerged with a snow-covered book which it had unearthed from its excavation. Chance squinted and was able to make out the word “Puzzles” on the cover.

“I ALMOST FORGOT THIS. IT MUST HAVE BEEN BURIED AFTER THAT HEAVY SNOWSTORM,” the Skeleton surmised as it hastily brushed the snow off the book. “AH. IT IS NOT IN A GOOD ENOUGH CONDITION TO BE RETURNED. IT IS A LITTLE DAMP. I SHOULD GO HOME AND DRY OFF THE PAGES FIRST.”

Then, with book tucked underneath its arm and a last look at its Human trap, the Skeleton strode out of the clearing in large, exaggerated steps until its tall form became nothing but a splash of bright orange-red in the distance.

The snowy night finally returned to silence again after its departure.

 

* * *

Chance gave himself an approximation of five minutes before he moved. He watched the clearing patiently during that period, taking his time dividing his gaze from the table and the mouse hole. He had expected the rodent to appear again and steal more of the spaghetti now that the Skeleton had left but nothing emerged from the crack at the bottom of that rocky wall. Finally, once he sensed that his time limit was up, he stood, feeling his leg muscles freezing and cramping up from the prolonged inactivity, and skulked into the clearing.

The spaghetti still looked delectable on that table when he approached it. He glanced at the mouse hole again just to make sure its inhabitant hadn’t poked its head out and seen him. When nothing happened, he picked up the Skeleton’s notepaper – then _jumped_ when its paperweight, the small thick bone, shuddered from being moved and vanished before his eyes.

 _Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,_ Chance thought absent-mindedly, trying to calm down his fast beating heart. He couldn’t help being jumpy and on edge when he was currently supporting a broken arm. He returned to the notepaper.

 _‘FOR HUMANS ONLY,'_ the Skeleton’s message began, the handwriting scrawled across the paper in large capitals and was also in a strangely familiar font. He ignored that for now and went back to reading:

_‘FOR HUMANS ONLY. IF YOU ARE NOT A HUMAN, PLEASE DO NOT EAT THE SPAGHETTI FOR IT IS A TRAP. THANK YOU FOR YOUR INTEREST AND HAVE A NICE DAY._

_DEAR HUMAN,_

_PLEASE ENJOY THIS PLATE OF SPAGHETTI, PREPARED ESPECIALLY FOR YOU. I INVITE YOU TO TAKE YOUR TIME IN EATING YOUR MEAL AND RELISH EVERY SECOND OF IT. BEHOLD! OBSERVE ITS BALANCED COMPOSITION OF LIGHTLY SPICED SAUCE AND BUTTERY PASTA! SINK YOUR TEETH INTO JUICY, SWEET-SAVOURY PERFECTION! REVEL IN THE FEELING OF SATISFACTION AS THIS SCRUMPTIOUS DELICACY FILLS YOU WITH FULLNESS! PLEASE DO NOT BE HASTY WITH YOUR TASTING BUT EXPERIENCE THE BURST OF MIND-BLOWING FLAVOUR IN EVERY BITE FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN. PREFERABLY UNTIL THE DAYTIME._

_PLEASE DO STAY AND WAIT IF YOU HAPPEN TO BE EATING THIS DURING THE DAYTIME AS YOU, TOO, CAN PERSONALLY MEET, GREET AND CONGRATULATE THE GREAT PAPYRUS, THE MOST AMAZING, THE MOST HANDSOME AND MOST TALENTED CHEF AND FUTURE ROYAL GUARD MEMBER WHO HAS PREPARED THIS AMAZING DISH FOR YOU. DO NOT BE ALARMED BY HIS MAGNIFICENCE OR IF HE_   _SUDDENLY DECLARES THAT YOU WILL BE CAPTURED. I GUARANTEE THAT MEETING HIM WILL BE A SIGNIFICANT MOMENT INDEED!_

_~~NYEH-HEH-HEH,~~ _

_ENJOY YOUR DELICIOUS MEAL,_

_PAPYRUS.’_

Chance placed the notepaper down and eyed the plate of spaghetti calculatingly. He wasn’t sure what he should do. On one hand, this was an (outrageously) obvious trap but the logistics behind it didn’t quite make sense. There were no signs of any kind of contraption designed to capture or hold Humans in one place long enough for the Skeleton to return and apprehend them. The Monster itself had mentioned that it had not poisoned the food. The only possible danger it had was that it might have been spelled by magic so that anyone who ate the spaghetti would be unable to move until its caster came down to release them. Was that possible though? Did this place have that kind of magic?

On the other hand, Chance was famished. He would have eaten some more of Toriel’s pie but he felt that it was wiser to preserve as much of it as he could. There was also a possibility that the spaghetti, because it was obviously food, might have magical healing properties like Toriel’s pie or the Monster Candy that Chance had eaten before. The thought of consuming something that could heal him trumped any kind of major doubt he held towards the spaghetti. He could be very cautious about this. He could take the whole plate with him, find a safe and undisturbed area in the forest and test out a small bit just to see whether any magic affected him. If everything was okay, he would have a meal and possibly another opportunity to heal more. If everything was not, the worst that could happen was him being immobilised on the spot, freezing in the snow and dying as a Human-shaped icicle.

In the end, he made his decision. He approached the spaghetti gingerly and placed his hand on the plate. He planned to pick it up and make a run for it.

The plate didn’t budge.

Surprised, he tugged it lightly at first, wanting to be careful because he did not want the spaghetti to come flying off the surface, but he eventually ended up tugging it hard and forcefully so. The plate continued not to budge. It _refused_ to budge. The damn thing was stuck to the table. Unbelievable.

He let go with an annoyed huff and grabbed the fork, intending to test his theory by taking a bite here. Instead of sinking into the mound of pasta and sauce, the fork knocked against the spaghetti instead, the whole thing feeling rock hard under his touch. He brushed his knuckles experimentally against the red sauce and they came away clean. It also felt like he was touching ice. 

The spaghetti, he was able to conclude quite easily, was frozen solid. The once warm and steaming plate of pasta had been left for far too long in the cold open air that of _course_ it would eventually fucking _freeze_.

 _FEAR NOT –_ the tall Skeleton’s loud, clear voice echoed in his head -  _FOR I ALREADY HAVE A SOLUTION._

Chance shifted his gaze to the smaller table that held the microwave oven and then looked back at the spaghetti. There was no point in trying to pry the plate off the table when it was already firmly stuck. There was no way he could heat up that spaghetti, no way.

However…

He still had Toriel’s pie. He could heat up Toriel’s pie instead and then he would have a hot meal in his hands and more healing magic doing its work to treat his injuries. It was perfect. At least in this way, he didn’t have to touch the spaghetti and be subjected to whatever magical or non-magical thing the tall Skeleton had placed over it. He would be consuming something he already knew to be safe. Yes, this was a good idea. He felt a spark of hope swelling in his chest at this plan.

He stepped closer to the microwave oven, searching eagerly for the power button and found it easily among a row of other buttons all proclaiming “Spaghetti” as its settings. He reached over and pressed it.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he pressed it again and again and again and _still_ , there were no lights or numbers illuminating the screen to indicate that the microwave oven was on and ready to be used. Chance bit back the twinge of frustration he felt towards the poor circumstances that was his life right now. First he had fallen into this crazy place, escaped a handful of characters who either wanted to attack him or kill him, survived and escaped an encounter with a murderous Skeleton with a broken arm, was currently freezing in the snow, and now all he wanted was a nice chunk of hot pie. Was it too much for him to ask for?

With an exasperated huff, he leaned over the small table to examine the back of the supposedly dysfunctional kitchen appliance.

The microwave oven was unplugged and there were no electric sockets outside in a clearing like this.

Chance drew back, lifted his leg up and kicked the table over. The table and the microwave oven fell onto the snow with a loud, echoing and satisfying crash.

He ran before the mouse could poke its head out to investigate the disturbance that had occurred outside its home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if there are medical inaccuracies or inconsistencies when it comes to broken bones or panic/anxiety attacks. I've never personally experienced any of these before so I'm a little unfamiliar with how they happen in real life.
> 
> Once more, thank you so much for stopping by and reading this far into the story. Notice that the word count went up, as did the amount of detail. Whoops. I tend to do that with the projects I write but I'll try to keep the word count under 10K next time. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> Again, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated!


	4. "(Are you actually a little puppy!?)"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Protagonist realises he needs to get a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the comments!

****Chance typically enjoyed the occasional challenge. He’d once been dared by a demanding roommate to enter a restricted faculty building, one that was closed off to those without a keycard, in any way possible. Seeing that there was no way to get in through the front door, it didn’t take him long to figure out a possible route to get inside. In the end, he had smugly scaled up the side of the building on deft hands and feet, aiming to reach an open window on the third floor. What he didn’t know, however, was that a class was being held inside. He had slipped in and landed near the lecturer’s podium, causing the poor elderly professor to scream in mid-sentence at his sudden appearance and the entirety of his class to erupt into roars of laughter.

Whatever this strange world he found himself in was, it sure presented him with a variety of challenges. Indeed, forcing himself to keep moving without collapsing into the snow and giving up definitely counted as one of those.

It wasn’t that he wanted to actually _give up_ this struggle or this ultimate goal to get out of this place; it was just that he was so  _exhausted._ The stress of tending to a broken arm by himself, of waiting for a heavy snowstorm to subside in an igloo, of constantly being on his guard as he dragged himself through the snowy forest path, of trying to keep himself warm as he did so – all of these had certainly taken a massive toll on his entire being. At one point, he’d stopped and sat down to catch his breath and found to his horror that it took a lot of his strength and willpower to force himself back on his feet and continue his journey.

Fortunately, he was able to find a solution to this. In a weird twist of fate, he had to admit that if he hadn’t bothered solving the Great Papyrus’s ridiculous puzzles, he would have stopped long ago.

Honestly, what was up with this place and its _puzzles_? He wondered if the tall Skeleton might also be the mastermind behind the ones in the Ruins as well.

The forest puzzles here were simple ones too – pressure plates hidden in the snow that had to be stepped on in order to form the sequence needed to retract the spikes blocking the route forward. In actuality though, he didn’t need to solve them in order to progress. These retracted spikes were not high enough to stop him from jumping over them. It was like the odd gateway built over the little footbridge back in the deeper parts of the forest; these obstructions seemed to be designed to hinder someone small – a child perhaps.

Despite his advantage, Chance actually spared some time to solve these puzzles anyway. He found the mental exercise extremely helpful as it distracted him greatly from his fatigue, the discomfort of the cold temperature as well as his injury. In short, the puzzles kept him busy, kept him hyper alert of his surroundings and most importantly, they kept him going. With each set encountered, he was sure he was getting closer and closer to Snowdin Town.

He passed a few more sentry huts down the road, all empty and shuttered down for the night. He wasn’t sure if the final one he found _was_ a sentry hut though. It looked more like a tiny doghouse tucked into a clearing full of half-buried snow poffs. He cautiously continued onwards.

He was terrified when he had to cross a long bridge flanked with ropes as handgrips. Said bridge stretched from one cliff edge to the next, suspended over a very steep drop. Chance barely spared a glance at the scenery around him and he also had to force himself not to look down. He concentrated instead on carefully shuffling across the snow-covered bridge path, gripping the rope tightly with one hand and trying not to sway from the dizziness of vertigo every time an icy gust of wind whipped through him, sounding loud in his ears, reminding him that he could easily tilt over the side and fall to his death.

It took far too long to reach to the other side. He had never been so grateful when he finally got there on wobbly, weakened knees.

After several minutes of plodding quietly through the snow without so much as encountering another sign introducing the next set of puzzles, Chance couldn’t help but begin to panic.

“Shit.” He looked around the area but there was nothing but snow and snow and more snow. “ _Shit._ ” Did he miss something? Did he take another wrong turn? Did he become lost? The tall Skeleton, Papyrus, had mentioned that the road to Snowdin was filled with puzzles. As long as Chance kept on finding them, he knew that he should be going the right way. But now – there was nothing in front of him. Should he continue onwards? Or should he go back?

He thought of the bridge he crossed just now and shuddered. There was no way he was going back again. Perhaps… perhaps the next set of puzzles would show up if he just kept walking. Perhaps he was overreacting. He couldn’t be lost. He just needed to keep going east. _Had_ he been going east all this time? Why were there no road signs? Was he even going the right way? Oh god. Could – could the puzzles be leading him _away_ from Snowdin and straight into a trap, despite what Papyrus proclaimed?

Chance kicked the snow in anger, fuelled by frustration and the bone-deep exhaustion that continuously threatened to weigh him down. He was too tired for this. This whole trek so far had been nothing but one tiring struggle after another. He was so done with everything.

With a fierce and stubborn resolve, he forced himself to keep going, stomping noisily through crunchy snow on weary legs, cradling his injured arm close to his chest and puffing misted breath from underneath his bandanna. He barely noticed that the land he was walking on had begun to rise and soon he reached the peak of the hill he hadn’t realised he was climbing. He looked up and stopped.

There, spread underneath him like an open Christmas card, was Snowdin town, quietly sparkling under a blanket of crystalline snow and sprinkled with colourful fairy lights. The cheerful sight made something soar within his chest and he resisted the sudden urge to leap out of the snow and whoop with joy – He made it.

So The Great Papyrus hadn’t been lying about those puzzles after all.

* * *

Snowdin lay sleeping before him. Chance could tell because it was quiet and there was barely anyone about. He lingered about the outskirts of the town, keeping close to the trees at first, before he crept closer and melded into the shadows of buildings to survey the empty streets. There was a Christmas tree set up in the middle of the town, a tall and magnificent thing draped in twinkling colours and pretty decorations. There was even a pile of wrapped presents tucked underneath the tree.

He wondered where he should go from here. Maybe he could hide under that tree? He wasn’t sure why the thought occurred to him, only that he just wanted a private place to lie down and rest. After all, he couldn’t just barge into any building. Not until he came up with a plan first.

He stepped out of the shadows and tried to skulk his way across the snow to head towards the Christmas tree when–

“Ooof!” coughed a voice by his feet. “I beg your _pardon_.”

Chance shrank back from the voice and looked down. He found, half-buried in the snow, a strange shapeless blob near his shoes. The thing was slightly bigger than his fist, coloured in a shiny slimy blue, with a black curling moustache sprouting from its centre. The moustache wriggled and moved as the same voice spoke to him.

“I see that you weren’t looking where you were going,” pointed out the blob and its slimy body wobbled rather unpleasantly as it worked to shake the snow off its body.

“U-Um.” Chance wasn’t sure what to say. He was still trying to figure out if the thing by his feet was really talking to him.

“Speak up,” encouraged the Moustachioed Slime, its moustache bristling. “I can understand if you hadn’t seen me but it does no good to anyone if you young ones don’t speak up.”

“I’m… s-sorry?” Chance ended up stuttering, his voice muffled underneath his bandanna. His whole body was tense and trembling from both the temperature and the wariness he felt towards his converser. He loosely cradled the arm-sling tucked beneath his jacket in a protective manner. “I’m… I d-didn’t… s-see you there.”

“Apology accepted,” said the Slime and Chance watched in fascination as the moustache slowly glided up and down its shapeless body. It took a second for him to realise that the Monster was actually studying him from head to toe. He tensed even more at this awareness, feeling a sense of alarm rising in his chest. Did the Monster recognise him as Human despite the bandanna? What would happen if it did? Will it attack him? Or worse, will it alert the rest of the town of Monsters? Should Chance turn and run again?

“You’re not from Snowdin, are you?” The black moustache wriggled again. “A traveller, perhaps? Ahhh, to be young and energetic again and go on adventures. Don’t waste this opportunity, young one, before you get to my age. I can’t go traipsing across lands anymore now that I’ve got two young-ins to look after.”

“I see.” Chance nodded compliantly with a wry and nervous smile that was unnecessary since it was hidden under orange fabric.

“My young-ins are quite playful, often engaged in a good old-fashioned game of Monsters and Humans. Although these days, it’s become quite an unpopular game to play. Children are already terrified by the idea of Humans hiding under their beds or appearing in their nightmares when they go to sleep. The last thing they need now is to be scared by the idea of Humans when they should be having fun instead.”

It was interesting to draw similarities of how things worked here. In this world, it was the Humans who acted as the nightmares of Monsters whereas back home, it was the other way around.

When Chance didn’t answer, the Slime fell silent and repeated its scrutiny of him, the moustache gliding up and down his body once more. “You seem weary, young traveller,” it observed.

“I am,” admitted Chance.

“Well, good news then. There is an inn up ahead. _Snowed Inn._ You can’t miss the sign.”

Chance lifted his head up to examine the street again. He easily found the place in question, an establishment that was part of a duplex, sharing itself with the general store next door.

“Is it o-open?” He couldn’t help but stare longingly at the warm glow of light emitting from the building’s windows.

“Of course it is,” replied the Slime. “You might need to ring the bell for attention though. After the snowstorm, everyone is likely snuggled up comfortably in bed.”

“But why are _you_ out and about?” Chance couldn’t help but ask.

“Ah, one of my young-ins has lost his hat.” The Slime made a show of looking here and there near the Christmas tree, although this was carried out in the form of its moustache gliding from side to side instead. “It’s red in colour. He lost it just as I ushered them back inside before the storm hit. I don’t suppose you saw anything, do you?”

Chance shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah well. I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually.” The Slime began to undulate, dragging its oozing body across the snow while the moustache remained in place, directed towards him. “I must go now. If you happen to visit North Snowdin, we may meet again. Good morning!”

Chance watched it go before he turned and stumbled his way down the street to Snowed Inn.

 

* * *

The moment he entered the building, the first thing he felt was the wave of warm air wrapping around him and his glasses immediately fogging up. The warmth of his surroundings brought such a huge and comforting relief that if it wasn’t for his injured arm, Chance would have collapsed onto the floor already without a care in the world.

He spent a few minutes lingering by the doorway, gently stamping his feet without jostling his arm too much as a means to generate further body warmth. Snow was shaken off his clothes and shoes from the effort, melting into wet stains all over the heart-patterned welcome mat.

The lobby of the inn was small but well-lit. There was a tattered and torn red couch shoved against the wall and a counter straight ahead. There was no one behind it except for a large, water-damaged painting of a blurry fortress on the wall. On the other end of the lobby was a set of stairs leading up to the next floor.

Chance cautiously approached the counter, searching for a bell to ring for attention. When he got close enough though, he realised that there was something behind the counter after all. A tiny white rabbit doll peeked over the edge. It looked awfully cute and he couldn’t help but reach out to poke it.

“Hello.”

Chance jerked his arm back when the two little black eyes of the white bunny blinked up at him. Its head rose a little to reveal a tiny twitching nose. It wasn’t a doll after all. It was alive.

“Uh, good m-morning?” Chance greeted it uncertainly. He felt awfully embarrassed by his previous action.

Blink, blink, went the little black eyes in response. The little creature stared up at him with a strange sort of fascination.

“G’morning,” it said. “Mom is still asleep right now. So you’ll have to talk to _me_.” The tiny bunny had the familiar haughty tone and manner of a child who was proud to be put in charge of such an important establishment. Treading on familiar ground, Chance stepped closer to the counter.

“Is that so?” he entertained with a smile that he kept forgetting would go unnoticed under his bandanna. “So, kid. Is this _your_ inn?”

“Yeah, it _is_!” said the child enthusiastically before it fell quiet and then whispered to him from behind a tiny furtive paw. “But don’t tell Mom that I already know she’s going to give this place to me when I grow up!”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Chance promised. He then rested his hands on the counter. “So, what are _you_  up to this early in the morning?”

“I’m waiting for the day to come,” was the proud reply. “It snowed so much last night but Mom won’t let me play outside until she wakes up.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Chance sympathised. “Because I've been out there and I can tell you that there’s enough snow to make _ten_ giant snow bunnies. You're missing out, kid.”

The black eyes seemed to grow in size at his declaration. “What! No way! I’ve only managed to make _one_ snow bunny because the second one kept hopping away before I could even finish it!”

“Hey. You never know. Maybe you’ll probably get lucky this time,” assured Chance. “You could always make a snow carrot to keep the bunny still while you finish it.”

“I never thought of _that.”_ The child become contemplative following his suggestion. “I’m gunna do that once Mom wakes up!”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Chance agreed and then pointed to the stairs. “So, boss. Is this where I can find me some place to rest?”

“Yeah. But you have to pay 80G for it first.” The tiny bunny bent close again to share another secret. It was so short that it had to stand on its tiptoes to rest its elbows on top of the counter. “Mom says that sleeping here can recover your health above your maximum HP. Whatever _that_ means.”

“80G?” Chance fumbled into his pockets to pull out the coins he filched from the Cyclops Monster back in the Ruins. “Is _this_ enough?”

The little black eyes studied the coins cupped in his palm. “But that’s barely enough to buy a cinnamon bun!”

 _Figures._ Chance kept his face impassive. “What? Are you _sure_?”

“Yeeaaah.”

The coins clinked together in Chance’s palm as he shook it. “But are you _reeaally_ sure? I mean _I_ think it’s enough for me to stay in a private room for, say, an hour or two. Don’t _you_?”

“Yeah, I’m _super_ sure it’s not enough.” For once, the child became deviant and intractable. “No pay. No stay.”

There was a tense silence as they glared at each other from over the counter. Chance tried to think of some other bargaining chip he could use in order to win himself a room. What would a bunny child want though? He certainly didn’t have the funds to get something that required money to buy.

“Auntie has a shop next door,” the child suddenly pointed out. “She puts on job advertisements sometimes. You can stop by there in the morning.”

“Why would I do that though?”

“So you can get money from a _job_ , you silly goose.”

“Hey! _I’m_ not a silly goose,” Chance squabbled, pouting. “ _You’re_ a silly goose.”

“But I’m not a goose.” The little rascal was infuriatingly smug about its statement. “I’m a _bunny_ rabbit.”

“You know what? You’re right,” Chance conceded, heaving a sigh of resignation and feeling his muscles and joints ache from fatigue. “You _are_ a bunny rabbit and I’m just a silly goose. In the meantime, is there someplace _else_ where I can rest until the morning?” He eyed the frayed red couch in the corner. “Preferably where no one can look at me, that is.”

“The Librarby is open all the time,” the child suggested.

“You mean the library?”

“That’s what I said. The Librarby.” It huffed haughtily, nose high in the air, and crossed its arms in a posture of self-importance. “ _I_ know what it’s called because _that’s_ how it was spelt on the building.”

“Alright. You’re the boss.” Chance adjusted his backpack over his shoulder and backed away to the door. “Thanks for your help, kid.”

Before he could reach for the doorknob, the child shyly called out, “Will you come back again?” There was a hopeful note in the young voice which made Chance's heart soften with affection.

“We’ll see.” He smiled from behind his bandanna and gave a two-fingered salute. “See you around, kid.”

The ‘Librarby’ was a red-brick building a little further in to the town. Chance stared at the sign hanging above the door and wondered if the Monsters might have misspelled the word or if this was how they actually called a library. Either way, he chose not to care too much about it and pushed his way inside.

The interior was cosy, bathed in warm, orange light. The reception counter near the doorway was occupied by a green lizard creature who was dozing soundly on a chair, a large open book covering its face. Apart from this Monster, there seemed to be no one else in here. The library looked well-stocked, its aisles lined with shelves of books, all organised by colour – reds, blues, yellows, greens and more. It made the aesthetic of the place appear quite pleasing.

Eventually, Chance stumbled into a corner of the library which was more dimly lit than the rest. There was a pile of squashy cushions scattered all over the floor around a low coffee table. On top of the table were a number of large picture books. It looked like a stack of them had been knocked to the floor, as there were more books strewn on top of the cushions.

This corner of the library seemed an adequate place to rest for a moment because it was private and hidden enough from public view. Chance wasted no more time collapsing on top of the cushions. It felt wonderful to lie on something soft and squashy again. He went through the preparations one had to make when sleeping with an injured limb: cushions tucked under the knees and one between torso and slinged arm to ensure that it remained elevated above the heart. He made sure his backpack and glasses were within reach.

After checking that his bandanna still stayed securely over his face, he closed his eyes and went instantly to sleep.

 

* * *

When Chance woke, noticing that the bandages around his arm felt tighter than before, he found a tall skeleton looming over him.

He jumped, scared out of his wits, and scrambled backwards, his back hitting the low coffee table with a thud. The sudden collision jostled his injured arm and he blenched in pain. He sensed some more books being knocked onto the floor.

“WHOA THERE!” said the skeleton in a loud and clear voice that made Chance wince again for it was none other than the Great Papyrus. He cowered against the table, his heartbeat pounding wildly in his chest. His foot stretched out to drag his backpack close as he rammed his glasses back onto his nose.

“DO NOT BE AFRAID, MASKED STRANGER,” Papyrus declared with one hand planted on a hip. “I DID NOT MEAN TO WAKE YOU UP. I WAS SURPRISED TO FIND YOU HERE, AMONG A PILE OF CUSHIONS AND ON TOP OF THESE BOOKS OF PUZZLES NO LESS!”

This was undoubtedly true. Scattered all around him and nestled amongst the cushions he had been sleeping on was a variety of puzzle-building books.

“I CAME HERE TO RETURN A LIBRARY BOOK I BORROWED.” Papyrus brandished said book and Chance saw that it was the same one which the Skeleton had unearthed from the snow last night. The cover was peeling a little but was otherwise dry and still in moderate condition. “THE LIBRARIAN IS STILL ANGRY AT ME FOR BARGING IN HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO ACQUIRE IT. I ACCIDENTALLY LEFT IT OUTSIDE IN THE STORM AFTER THAT BUT I MANAGED TO GET IT BACK. SO HERE I AM NOW, ABOUT TO RETURN THIS BOOK TO ITS RIGHTFUL PLACE!”

The Skeleton then looked down at the books Chance had been unknowingly sleeping on. “PERHAPS YOU COULD HELP ME PUT THESE BACK TO THEIR RIGHTFUL PLACES AS WELL? THIS WAS MY FAULT ACTUALLY. I WAS SO EXCITED LAST NIGHT THAT I ENDED UP PULLING OUT TOO MANY BOOKS FROM THE SHELVES AND I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO PUT THEM BACK. YOU SEE, I NEEDED TO FIX MY PUZZLE OUTSIDE SNOWDIN. IT IS A PUZZLE I HAD CLEVERLY DESIGNED TO CAPTURE HUMANS! SO WHAT DO YOU SAY, MASKED STRANGER?”

“Um.” To be honest, the only thing Chance wanted to do right now was to get as far away as he could from Papyrus or any kind of skeleton Monster. He tried to think of an excuse to leave. “I’m sorry. I have to go and… be somewhere else right now.”

“BUT YOU’VE ONLY JUST WOKEN UP.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Which is why I have to go.”

“BUT WE’VE ONLY JUST STARTED TALKING.”

“And this is where we have to stop. Because I _really_ need to be somewhere else right now.”

“BUT THE LIBRARIAN SAW YOU SLEEPING ON THE BOOKS THOUGH,” Papyrus pointed out knowingly, like he had unfolded a dirty secret. “HE WON’T BE HAPPY IF YOU DECIDE TO LEAVE WITHOUT PUTTING THEM BACK.”

“I wasn’t the one who put the books there,” Chance argued.

“BUT YOU WERE STILL THE ONE WHO SLEPT _ON_ THE BOOKS WITHOUT BOTHERING TO PUT THEM AWAY.” For a brief moment, the tall Skeleton gazed down at him and it finally occurred to Chance that the Great Papyrus was different from Sans the Skeleton because when the former spoke, his jawbone actually moved, dropping open and closing shut. It reminded Chance of a cartoon skeleton chattering its teeth when it talked.

“That’s not my pro–” Chance tried to say but Papyrus cut into his words like he hadn’t heard him. “HONESTLY, WHAT KIND OF PERSON WOULD DO SUCH A THING TO SOMETHING AS TREASURED AS A LIBRARY BOOK?” he mused in a voice that was wistful and contemplative.

 _More like what kind of person would leave a library book outside and let it get buried in the snow?_ Chance retaliated bitterly but chose not to say any of that aloud. He wasn’t in the mood to argue further with the Skeleton. Besides, the last thing he wanted was for the both of them to start a ruckus and attract the attention of the librarian.

“You know what? Whatever.” Chance surrendered to the request and climbed back up onto his feet, hoisting a backpack strap over his shoulder. He made sure to shield his slinged arm from view as he leaned down to gather up a stack of books. “So where do these go, Papyrus?”

He realised his mistake a little too late. At the mention of his name, Papyrus stood deadly still as he stared down at him. For a horrible second, Chance panicked, wanting to drop the books in his hand and make a run for it. It was difficult to read the Skeleton’s reaction due to the absence of facial muscles. He didn’t know what Papyrus was thinking.

When that second passed, Papyrus’s jaw dropped open and the deep lines above his eye sockets – Chance realised that those were in fact _eyebrows_ of some sort – rose high. The Skeleton looked… speechless.

“WOWIE!” The awed gasp in Papyrus’s voice gave away his real reaction to Chance’s clumsy slip-up. “YOU KNOW MY NAME!”

Chance let out a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, ha-ha. Come on. I mean, who _wouldn’t_ know you, right?”

“YES BUT YOU–” Papyrus seemed to find some difficulty containing his amazement. “I’VE NEVER MET YOU BEFORE BUT YOU ALREADY KNOW MY NAME!”

The Skeleton sounded so pleased and so proud of himself that it put in mind that he might probably be compensating for something. “HAVE YOU PERHAPS HEARD OF ME SOMEWHERE?” Papyrus inquired afterwards.

“Uh. I came across your puzzles,” Chance admitted in the end because he was still tired and he couldn’t think of an excuse to cover his slip-up. “I got lost in the woods. After the snowstorm. Then I found your puzzles. I mean, you signed your name on them after all. They led me right to Snowdin.”

“YOU CAME ACROSS _MY_ PUZZLES?” Papyrus sounded way too ecstatic about this.

“ _And_ I solved them too,” Chance added, unable to stop himself from sounding triumphant from his achievement. Despite how unnecessary and gratuitous those puzzles might be, Chance agreed that he needed the mental exercise in the snow. Maybe enough that he kind of enjoyed the puzzles a little bit.

Papyrus gasped again, his jaw dropping open a second time. Chance couldn’t help noticing that there was nothing past the long, straight teeth: no tongue, no throat. Just a black nothingness. “ _YOU_ SOLVED _MY_ PUZZLES? THE ONES THAT I HAD DESIGNED TO ENTICE AND CAPTURE HUMANS? COULD IT BE?” The Skeleton then bent down a little, studying him closely through empty eye sockets. “COULD _YOU_ BE A HUMAN?”

Chance froze as a cold spike of fear ran down his back. He was aware that his heartbeat had started pounding frantically in his chest, that sweat was breaking out of his forehead, and that the bookshelves around them seemed to be closing in on him. He felt like a cornered animal.

“THEN AGAIN,” Papyrus hummed thoughtfully as he straightened back up. “IF YOU _WERE_ HUMAN, YOU WOULDN’T BE HERE NOW, WOULD YOU? YOU’D PROBABLY BE TRAPPED OUTSIDE SNOWDIN, UNABLE TO STOP SOLVING MY PUZZLES. AFTER ALL, THEY WERE DESIGNED SPECIFICALLY TO CAPTURE HUMANS.”

The Skeleton faltered a little and the hesitant tone he put on after that made him sound almost sheepish.

“ACTUALLY, I DON’T REMEMBER HOW HUMANS EVEN _LOOK_ LIKE ANYMORE,” he admitted. “STILL, I AM VERY GLAD THAT THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO _DO_ APPRECIATE WHAT I DO AND DON'T THINK MY PUZZLES ARE A PUBLIC NUISANCE. IT IS GOOD THAT YOU FOUND MY PUZZLES TO NOT ONLY BE ENTERTAINING, BUT ALSO LIFE-SAVING!”

He then proceeded to shove an orange-red gloved hand at Chance’s face. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME, MY PUZZLE-SOLVING, MYSTERIOUSLY MASKED STRANGER FELLOW?”

“Ch-Chance,” said Chance. He eyed the offered hand before him in the same manner he would show a cat if it came and presented him with a dead bird. He made no move to take it.

As seconds passed by, Papyrus’s eyebrows rose expectantly at him. The fingers inside the gloved hand wiggled coaxingly and in the end, Chance felt that he had no choice in the matter. He tentatively slipped his hand into Papyrus’s and shook it.

It felt strange. The glove was fine and normal, but when Chance squeezed the hand, he expected to feel thin hard bone underneath. It wasn’t quite like that. There _was_ bone in there. He could feel the individual phalanges through the thick fabric. But the whole hand felt whole and full and solid. There was also a strange, tingling sensation; a warm and buzzing hum that passed into him like an electrical current. This energy – it felt organic. It felt alive. Like… magic. Was this – was _this_ magic?

He decided he didn’t like it. He let go quickly.

“CHANCE?” Papyrus repeated, like he was tasting the name in his mouth. “WHAT AN INTERESTING NAME. AND YOU ALREADY KNOW MINE, OF COURSE. THE GREAT PAPYRUS, PUZZLE-MAKER EXTRAORDINAIRE, SPAGHETTI CHEF AND MOST HANDSOME SKELETON THIS SIDE OF SNOWDIN.” With a flourishing wave of his arm, he stood and posed, his exaggerated movements making the orange-red cape flutter behind him like a flag.

Chance couldn’t help but think of Sans the Skeleton prowling back in the deep forest. He wondered whether Sans and Papyrus might know each other. He shuddered. No, they _must_ know each other. In fact, there were probably many more Skeleton Monsters wandering around the Underground that it was possible they might even be related to one another. And worse, there was always a likelihood that Papyrus would end up leading Sans straight to him.

He had to get away from Papyrus.

“Oh would you look at the time? I have to go. Again,” Chance announced, stepping away from the Skeleton. “I’ve got an appointment with…uh, the general store.”

He didn’t know what he would expect when he got there. He wasn’t sure what to do with the job opportunities which the bunny child suggested he should look at. He didn’t have much of a plan yet. But he thought that going to the store anyway would give him some options. He was about to turn away when Papyrus spoke.

“AH, I SEE WHY YOU ARE IN SUCH A HURRY,” the Skeleton nodded in understanding. “BUT DO NOT FRET. BECAUSE THAT IS EXACTLY WHERE _I_ AM HEADED TO ONCE I FINISH PUTTING THESE BOOKS AWAY. WHICH IS WHY IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA IF WE PUT THESE BACK TOGETHER. WE WOULD BE ABLE TO FINISH MUCH MORE QUICKLY.”

Papyrus seemed particularly stubborn on making Chance stay and put these books back. Chance decided that he should just get this over and done with.

It took longer than anticipated for them to finish shelving all the books. This was because Papyrus had a terrible habit of picking up a book from the floor and then flicking through the pages while making commentary of its contents. Chance ignored him for the most part and concentrated on his own task. It turned out that there was no point in trying to organise anything using the usual alphabetical order system. The Librarby really did organise its books by the shades of colour on its book spines.

Eventually, they were able to finish the task and the two of them finally left the building, passing the scowling, glowering librarian by the counter. Chance almost wanted to turn around and run back into the library because the streets of Snowdin were no longer empty now that it was supposedly daytime.

He didn’t run though. Instead he stood still.

Papyrus looked over at him. “YOUR FEET DIDN’T TURN INTO ICE, DID THEY? IS THAT WHY YOU STOPPED?”

“Uh, no.” Chance tried his best not to give away his fear. His hand drifted to his bandanna to check that it was still secured over his face. “I just. I forgot where the store was, is all.”

“AND _THAT_ IS WHY YOU HAVE _ME_.” Papyrus waved his hand in a beckoning manner. “COME ON. IT’S THIS WAY.”

Chance took a deep breath and followed suit.

Snowdin Town felt a little more alive now that Monsters were roaming the area and Chance found them to be a most diverse bunch of characters. A red robed individual with a jester’s mask laughed freely with a giant mouse who had large ears and an even larger scarf that covered half of its face. A brown bear wearing an orange jacket was muttering “politics, that's politics” to a wide-eyed but armless yellow creature outside another red-bricked building which looked like some sort of restaurant. Near the Christmas tree was another bear, white as the snow around it this time, tucking a wrapped present under the branches while two rabbit Monsters exchanged greetings next to an igloo. One of the rabbits held onto a leash which was attached to a… rabbit? Wait, _what_? A tiny rabbit on a leash held on by another larger rabbit– just what was _wrong_ with this place?

The whole thing was all bizarre and fascinating and frightening at the same time. Yet, despite this, no one stopped to stare curiously at the two of them as they passed by, which suited Chance just fine, but he also couldn’t help but notice that somehow, the reason why no one seemed to want to look at them twice was because it had something to do with Papyrus.

He glanced at the Skeleton next to him, whose longer legs and wider stride made him struggle to catch up, but he couldn’t read the other’s reaction to all this.

At last, they reached the general store and stepped back into warm surroundings.

 

* * *

Chance learned three things while he browsed the store. Firstly, he was hungry and the store had food which he realised he couldn’t afford. Secondly, he needed money to buy everything he required to prepare for the upcoming journey to the King’s Castle. Thirdly, well, there was no other way around it – he needed a job.

There was a corkboard on the wall that was pinned with a number of flyers. Chance peered at a section labelled job advertisements and was just about to read a crumpled sheet of paper marked with dirty paw prints when Papyrus suddenly appeared behind him, nearly scaring the daylights out of him again.

“OH, I SEE THAT YOU ARE JOB HUNTING,” the tall Skeleton observed. Chance saw that he was carrying a shopping basket holding an assortment of items – a coil of rope, some building tools, boxes of gears and screws – and wondered if he was going to make a new set of puzzles.

Before he could ask though, Papyrus stepped even closer to him and leaned over Chance’s head to point at the flyer he had been reading. “MAY I RECOMMEND THIS ONE? IT PAYS FINELY.”

The sudden close proximity made him tense up where he stood. Chance squinted determinedly at the flyer, trying to read it again, and realised he couldn’t. The scratchy handwriting and muddy paw prints staining the paper made it illegible for him.

“What does it say?” he turned to ask the Skeleton and regretted it afterwards when he found Papyrus with half of his body practically hanging over him, cornering him against the corkboard. This was _too_ close. This was awkward and _intrusive_ but Papyrus didn’t seem to notice anything; he was too busy reading that damn flyer from over Chance’s head.

“IT LOOKS LIKE A REQUEST FOR SOME IMMEDIATE PART-TIME HELP,” the Skeleton translated.

“What– kind of– help?” Chance gritted out. He wanted to wriggle away but did not know how to do so.

“IT DOESN’T SAY,” answered Papyrus as he traced his glove across the grubby flyer. “BUT NO MATTER. WHO WOULDN’T WANT TO HELP OUT THE DOGS ANYWAY?”

Chance couldn’t help but tilt his head up at Papyrus again, seeing an upside-down image of him. “Did you say ‘dogs’?”

Something in Papyrus’s face changed because now, it looked like the Skeleton was delightedly beaming down at him. Which should not be possible because most of the time, Papyrus’s features seemed permanently fixed into a grin anyway.

“ABSOLUTELY,” Papyrus raved, his face still hanging above Chance's. “THE DOGS LOOK AFTER THE SNOWDIN AREA. THEY USUALLY RESPOND TO ANY PROBLEM A MONSTER WANTS FIXING. SOMETIMES, SOME MONSTER COMES TO ME BECAUSE THEY WANT ME TO PASS THEIR MESSAGE TO UNDYNE. BUT THE THING IS, UNDYNE HATES COMING AND STAYING IN SNOWDIN FOR LONG. SO, IF ANYBODY WANTS SOMETHING SORTED OUT, THEN TO THE DOGS THEY GO.”

Chance had no idea who this Undyne was but the fact that this individual preferred not to come here told him that they were of no immediate threat. Right now though, he felt inclined to take this job, especially since it entailed him working with dogs. Whatever this job was, Papyrus claimed that it would generate a decent salary. It was also a part-time and temporary position. Perfect for earning some quick cash.

Chance tilted his head back down, his neck smarting from the awkward stretch. “Okay. Where do I sign up?”

At this, Papyrus finally detached himself from Chance’s back, making Chance quickly step out of the way and breathe freely and deeply again. Meanwhile, the Skeleton reached for a stack of forms set on a table nearby, fumbled into the back of his pants for a pencil and then held both items out to Chance. “HERE YOU GO.”

Chance quickly scribbled his details onto the paper, which itself only consisted of a few columns asking for his name, his favourite smell and whether he preferred sticks or tennis balls (he picked none because what the fuck kind of questions were these?). Once he was done, he went to hand in his form to the large bunny rabbit in a hat sitting behind the counter, who was busy organising a tray of cinnamon buns in a food display case.

Before he got close enough though, Papyrus stepped into his path and easily plucked the sheet of paper out of his hand.

“Hey!” Chance protested and tried to take his form back.

“I HAVE AN IDEA, CHANCE,” Papyrus announced, raising the form high in the air so that Chance couldn’t reach it even if he jumped. “ _I_ WILL DELIVER THE APPLICATION FORM FOR YOU.”

Chance fixed him with a scrutinising eye. “Why?”

“BECAUSE I KNOW WHERE TO SEND THIS TO. I CAN SEND THIS IMMEDIATELY AND YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO WAIT TOO LONG FOR A REPLY.”

“Okay…” said Chance as he narrowed his eyes at Papyrus, trying to figure out what the Skeleton would gain from doing him a favour like this. Did Papyrus intend to sabotage him? Did he plan to just throw his application form away? Why was he being so eager and helpful?

It was difficult to guess any ulterior motives from the Skeleton, especially when Papyrus’s face gave nothing away. Chance could only read him through his voice and body language and even those seem to indicate that the Skeleton was being unnecessarily helpful because he wanted to be.

Chance decided to go with it for now. The sooner he got this job and got some money from it, the sooner he could get the items he needed and get the hell out of Snowdin.

“How will I know that I’ll get a reply though?” he asked. “I mean, how will whoever is hiring for help… reach me?”

“NOT TO WORRY! I WILL TELL YOU MYSELF,” Papyrus responded easily. “I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHERE YOU’LL BE SO I CAN EASILY REACH YOU.”

“Oh, uh.” He could wait here. But this was a general store and he might end up running into other Monsters whom he had no wish to chat with at all. There was the Inn next door with the bunny child who was hoping he might return but honestly, he would rather be alone right now. He also didn’t fancy wandering around Snowdin in the daytime with so many of its inhabitants about, even if he _was_ looking for someplace to breathe freely for a while. Which only left…

“The library. I’ll be at the library.”

“EXCELLENT CHOICE! THE LIBRARY IT IS! SEE YOU SOON!”

 

* * *

Chance had barely made himself comfortable on the same floor cushions he had slept on last night when Papyrus suddenly flounced into being in front of him.

“THERE YOU ARE!” Chance flinched at the volume of the Skeleton’s voice. He wondered why the librarian could even put up with the Skeleton and his loudness in a public place like this.

Papyrus made a show of sweeping his gaze across the cushions, the low table and the shelves of puzzle-related books around them. “AH-HA! SO YOU DECIDED TO RETURN TO THE PLACE WHERE WE FIRST MET, IS IT? OF COURSE YOU HAVE! EVEN _I_ CAN SEE HOW MUCH THIS CORNER HAS BECOME ONE OF GREAT SIGNIFICANCE TO YOU. WHY, I AM VERY FLATTERED, CHANCE, THAT YOU WOULD CHOOSE TO WAIT FOR ME _HERE_ OF ALL PLACES!”

“Uh…” What the hell was Papyrus rattling on about? He didn’t have time to ask though because the Skeleton merely continued on with his announcement.

“ANYWAY, I WANT TO TELL YOU CONGRATULATIONS, CHANCE! YOU’VE BEEN CALLED FOR AN INTERVIEW.”

Chance spluttered, “Wh-what? _Already_?” He was pretty sure that only twenty minutes or so had passed since he left the general store.

“I TOLD YOU IT WOULDN’T TAKE TOO LONG. NOW, COME ON.” Papyrus stepped forward, his hand reaching out for Chance’s but Chance reeled back and got up himself without any help. If Papyrus noticed that obvious reluctance, he didn’t mention it. “I’LL TAKE YOU TO WHERE THE INTERVIEW WILL TAKE PLACE,” he said instead.

Then, it was back into the thick, crunchy snow again and past the Monster townsfolk going about their day. Chance kept his distance from Papyrus all the way, his right hand protectively cradling his slinged arm while his head stayed bent down, not wanting to draw any attention. As they trudged through the snow, a thought suddenly occurred to him: “So. The interviewers. They wouldn’t happen to be the dogs, would they?”

Papyrus’s skull rotated from the top of his spinal column so that his eye sockets could look down at him. The alien motion made Chance feel a little sick. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“You said there were dogs. And that these dogs look after this area. And right now, someone is needed to assist them on this job, whatever it is,” Chance tried to elaborate.

“YES…” Papyrus said but waved his arm coaxingly for Chance to continue.

“When you told me there were dogs. You didn’t really mean _actual_ dogs, did you?” Chance had been thinking of domesticated dogs, the canines which Humans kept as pets or duty dogs. “You really meant dog _Monsters_.”

“WELL, YES. OF COURSE THEY ARE.” Papyrus was understandably confused by Chance’s musings. “WHAT ELSE WOULD THEY BE? AND YOU'RE RIGHT THOUGH. THEY _ARE_ THE ONES WHO WILL INTERVIEW YOU. YOU SHOULD BE HONOURED. THE DOGS ARE ACTUALLY PART OF THE ROYAL GUARD, WHICH IS AN ELITE TEAM I WILL BE A PART OF ONE DAY!”

A sudden sinking feeling descended in Chance’s stomach. This reveal made him stop in his tracks. _Royal_ _Guard_? The very name sounded like a bad omen.

Papyrus noticed his hesitation and stopped with him. “NO NEED TO BE NERVOUS, CHANCE. THEY’RE REALLY NICE DOGS,” he assured and his gloved hand went up again to reach for Chance, perhaps to offer him some comfort, but Chance ducked out of the way and scurried a few paces forward.

“WAIT,” Papyrus called out to him, stopping right in front of the door of the red-bricked restaurant. The sign above it read ‘GRILLBY’S’. “WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WE’RE HERE ALREADY.”

With a wave of his arm, Papyrus swung the door open and quickly ushered Chance inside.

A surge of too-warm air enveloped Chance immediately, making his glasses fog up whilst chasing the chills away. After wiping the lenses, he went and surveyed the surroundings, finding wooden foundations, wood-panelled floors and wooden tables and chairs. It was partly crowded inside. The type of restaurant patrons were divided into a group of dog Monsters sitting on one side of room while other strange, misshapen creatures – including another bunny, a fish-faced individual, a horse-man wearing sunglasses as well as a set of giant sharp teeth on legs – occupied the other. Over by the counter was some kind of bartender whose whole body was made of fire. That certainly explained the unusually warm temperature of the place.

At their arrival, some of the patrons looked up curiously. Once they spotted Papyrus though, they turned away as if they hadn't just looked.

“HELLO AGAIN, EVERYONE,” Papyrus greeted with an exaggerated wave.

There were grunts, half-hearted hello’s and mellowed replies to the greeting. The only Monster who seemed fairly pleased to see him was the bartender, who raised a flaming hand and waved back.

“AH, THEY’RE ONLY ACTING LIKE THIS BECAUSE IT’S TOO EARLY IN THE MORNING,” Papyrus explained to Chance, who noticed that most of what the Monsters were eating consisted of burgers and fries, hardly the kind of food that would be consumed for breakfast. The sight and smell of the food made his stomach growl and ache in hunger. He hoped that his interviewers might be nice enough to offer him something to eat while they questioned him on his abilities.

Papyrus led him to a large table occupied by several dog Monsters. All of them had white fur and wore different outfits. Two of them were garbed in matching hooded black robes. Another was a massive beast who was decked in mantle-grey body armour. The last had a pink muscle shirt and chequered pants on. There was also a fourth dog sitting by itself at a separate table, absorbed entirely in a card game and had barely looked up when the bartender dumped a dog bowl of broth on its table.

Papyrus swept his arm in another exaggerated movement of introduction. “MAY I INTRODUCE YOU THE SNOWDIN CANINE UNIT! HELLO EVERYONE. THE DOGI HERE WILL BE YOUR INTERVIEWERS. EVERYONE, THIS IS CHANCE. PLEASE BE NICE TO HIM.” The Skeleton then turned to Chance. “GOOD LUCK, CHANCE! I’M SURE YOU’LL DO WELL. I BELIEVE IN YOU!”

“Wait. Where are _you_ going?” Even though he preferred to keep his distance from Papyrus, Chance didn’t want to be left on his own in a room full of Monsters he didn’t know.

“ALREADY MISSING ME, EH?" the Skeleton said gleefully. "NOT TO WORRY. I JUST NEED TO RECALIBRATE MY PUZZLES AGAIN. YOU SAID YOU SOLVED THEM, DIDN’T YOU? I BOUGHT SOME THINGS FROM THE STORE TO HELP ME FIX THEM AGAIN. NOW, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO.”

And with that, Papyrus turned with a flutter of his brightly coloured cape and pranced out of the restaurant, cackling, “NYEH-HEH-HEH-HEH.”

The Dogi, apparently the twin dogs wearing the black robes, turned to him. Chance only saw a pair of shiny noses peeking out from under their hoods.

“Um,” said Chance and his voice came out in an embarrassing squeak. He cleared his throat. “Hi. My name is Chance. I’m here for the interview… for part-time help?”

“Yes, we have your application form,” said one of the shiny black noses in a voice that was thick and nasally. The tiny little moustache underneath it made Chance study it further. This one’s nose, he realised, was wetter and runnier than its partner’s, as if it had a cold.

“(We were a little disappointed that you mentioned no interest in either sticks or tennis balls),” said the other nose which had no moustache. There was something strange about this Monster’s speech but Chance couldn’t make out what it was. Just that it was different from the other’s.

“Will you sit?” the first nose invited and Chance hung back for a bit, trying to decide which chair was the best one to sit without being too close to any of the dog Monsters stationed around the table. He noticed that when he tried to approach a chair which was farthest from any dog, the giant armoured beast on the other side of the table suddenly bristled in its seat, watching him with tiny black eyes that were bright and eager and _hungry_.

“I’d be careful where I sit if I were you,” sniffed the Dogi with the moustache. A lolling pink tongue appeared from under its snout to sweep over the runny black nose. “You already see that Big Guy eyeing you there? He’s waiting to jump on your lap and lavish you senseless with attention. You don’t want something _that_ heavy on you while you’re busy being interviewed.”

“(Come sit here),” said the other Dogi, pushing a chair that was set much closer to the pair of them. “(So that we could take a good look at you).”

Chance tentatively sat down, albeit stiffly, all while trying his best to calm down his frantically beating heart. Unconsciously, he pulled at his jacket, hiding his slinged arm from view before cradling it close to his chest in a casual manner. “Okay. I’m r-ready.”

The Dogi did not immediately ask questions. They both raised their paws and pulled back their dark hoods. Two similarly shaped dog Monsters stared down at him. Although they both shared round snouts and floppy ears, one of them had a cowlick to accompany that little moustache while the other sported long, curling eyelashes. The way they sat together, their movements naturally in sync, suddenly made Chance realise that they must be husband and wife.

“I am Dogamy,” said the husband.

“(I am Dogaressa),” said the wife.

“Please excuse my hot dog,” began Dogamy in a nasally, apologetic tone. “She is going to smell you right now.”

“What–?” Chance uttered in alarm and froze in place when Dogaressa rose from her seat and began to sniff him all over. The moment the dog Monster stood up, Chance saw, to his horror, a pair of long battle-axes tucked underneath both Dogi’s seats.

 _Oh shit, oh shit, oh_ shit! went his brain. Papyrus had informed him that this was the Snowdin Canine Unit. Part of the Royal Guard. There was no doubt that they were also probably the sentries stationed outside the town. They guarded Snowdin and its surrounding area from dangerous threats like Humans. And of _course_ the dogs would make good defenders. They had a better sense of smell. They would be able to smell a _threat_ if it appeared nearby.

Meaning that if they ever found out he was Human…

“(Hmm…),” Dogaressa pushed closer until her snout brushed against Chance’s hair. He felt her breath on his face and swallowed, not daring to move. He was dead. There was no doubt about it. They were going to find out he was Human, never mind his bandanna. They were going to sniff him out. Then they would either eviscerate him with their battle-axes or just rip him apart with their teeth. He had to think of a plan. He had to run. He had to escape and get the fuck out _now_ –

“(Oooh. Oooooh).” Now Dogaressa seemed awed by him. She finally pulled back and her eyes were dancing with delight. “(You smell like a little puppy. Is that what you are then? You look weird but you smell like a puppy. You’re a weird little puppy. How cute!)”

“A puppy?” Dogamy said, his floppy ears raised in interest. He tried to lean over and sniff Chance too but a second later, the Monster _sneezed_ and Chance recoiled in revulsion when a glob of dog mucus hit his face, splattering over his glasses.

“Ugh!” Chance cried, pulling his gunk-covered glasses off his nose.

“(Oh dear. Now look what you’ve done!)” Dogaressa handed Chance a napkin and turned to scold her husband. “(I told you no more sniffing until you’re all better! I can handle this on my own!)”

“I’m sorry, hot dog,” Dogamy apologised to his wife and then turned to Chance with large, doleful eyes. “I’m sorry, weird little puppy.”

“It’s – it’s fine, it’s _fine_!” No, it was not fine. It was not fine at all to have dog Monster fluids all over your face and bandanna. Chance wanted to leave right now. He wanted to be _clean._

“(Let’s just get to the interview),” said Dogaressa as she settled back down, her robe shielding the two battle-axes from sight, much to Chance’s relief.

“(The thing is: we need someone who could help the Greater Dog–)” Dogaressa paused to point at the large armoured beast who had grown bored by them and was now busy picking up and dropping stray playing cards on top of the pink shirted dog’s head. “(– answer a call about a problem in the forest. Someone said there is a Monster out there who is on some kind of rampage, attacking anyone in sight. No one could get near them. We don’t know who the Monster is though but we need to help them before they get hurt. Normally, my husband and I would sort this out but as you can see, he caught a cold because of the snowstorm last night and I have to take care of him until he gets better).”

Chance’s eyes strayed over to the pink-shirted dog seated in the farthest chair. It looked miserable, slumped over the table with its head resting on its paws and its ears lowered. It continued to ignore the Greater Dog raining cards all over it.

Dogaressa saw where his attention went. “(Poor Doggo),” she was saying. “(He’s just not been the same ever since his new friend Doge took a walk into the Ruins and never came back. He’s so heartbroken over her. We tried to give him something to do but he’s just not in the mood. Unlike the Lesser Dog over there by the other table. He’s been stuck playing cards with himself for two days straight without stopping).”

The trio were quiet for a moment, just gazing at the two compromised dogs before Dogaressa resumed, “(Now that you understand why we need some extra paws, what do you say? Will you help?)”

“I’m sorry?” Chance was confused. Wasn’t this supposed to be an interview? Where people asked him questions and he had to convince them that he was the right person for the job? “Sorry. I’m a little slow today because I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Are you saying I got the job?”

“Why yes,” said Dogamy through a noseful of sniffles. “Why else would we call you for an interview?”

“But shouldn’t you–” Chance stopped himself when he realised it didn’t really matter. He got the job. He just needed to do it. “Alright. Where do I start?” He got up, wanting to find a bathroom so that he could wash up.

“Well, you can take this Big Guy with you,” Dogamy said and at the sound of its name, the Greater Dog rose up to its feet, looking like a towering building reaching for the sky. The massive beast hefted a long spear that was as tall as it was with a thick gauntlet.

“(The Greater Dog will look after you if you run into any trouble),” said Dogaressa, watching the Monster in question make its way around the table to settle next to Chance. “(Try not to ignore him for too long. He tends to wander off if no one pays attention to him.)”

Chance slowly stretched his neck upwards to meet the Greater Dog’s beetle black gaze. “Uh. Hi.”

The Greater Dog did not answer. It stared down at him for a long moment, the eyes calculating, before its face suddenly brightened, forming a pleased expression. The whole thing made the giant creature look hilariously goofy.

Chance found himself smiling. Despite its intimidating hulking figure, the Greater Dog seemed… pretty alright actually. It gave the impression of being more like an oversized, domesticated pet than these other canine creatures.

“Come on, Big Guy,” he called with a nudge of his head. “You can start first by leading me to a bathroom.”

At once, all the dog Monsters in the restaurant flinched, even the Greater Dog balked and let out a whimper. Chance blinked in confusion and then turned to the Dogi for an explanation.

“No baths,” Dogamy stated rebelliously.

“(So no bathrooms in Snowdin),” finished Dogaressa.

Chance swore, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” and then left Grillby’s with the Greater Dog lumbering behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *All my kudos for the Undertale Wiki. Thank you for providing me with the resources I need.
> 
> *I also changed the format of the whole story so that the little chapter sections were separated using the basic underline (____) instead of the original roman numerals. I realised that the latter didn't work for me when I found out I forgot how roman numerals worked.
> 
> *'Doge' was a cut character from UT whom you were supposed to find in the Ruins area. Her wiki page can be found here: undertale.wikia.com/wiki/Cut_Enemies
> 
> *Doggo sometimes calls the Greater Dog, "Big Guy".
> 
> *Chance was able to escape smell detection as a Human on account of spending a lot of time in the Snowdin forest being thrown to the ground and rolling in the snow to avoid Sans's attacks.
> 
> Any feedback is truly appreciated!


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